Prized Possessions

We’ve moved. A lot. And that, I believe, is what you call an understatement. This fall Jake and I will celebrate our 15th wedding anniversary. And our cozy residence here in Kodiak is our 24th home.

That is just this side of ridiculous.

With that many moves, we rarely stay in one place long enough to settle.

Actually, that is not precisely true. On the whole, each change we believed to be our last. That was the anchor to our sanity. And so we made a home. We got involved. Church, scouts, friends, neighbors, book clubs, projects, activities.

And then our time would be up.

My core shudders a little in remembrance.

Throughout the years and the homes, we have truly settled only a handful of times. I have a benchmark that marks the completion of of the process. The characterization of a home fulfilled. Our nest is not quite complete until this ritual is performed. And yesterday that benchmark was met.

With teacups.

I have few prized possessions. While I like nice things, I’m not a collector. I like to purchase, but I don’t like to keep. It’s a problem.

My house is a handy place to be when I’m sorting and purging.

I digress.

Teacups.

And Kobuk Coffee.

There’s a story here.

In our early married life I worked in downtown Anchorage. Summertime lunch hours were spent perusing small shops and boutiques, eating reindeer dogs from street vendors and enjoying Music in the Park.

Originally Kimball’s Dry Goods established in 1915, Kobuk Coffee has evolved into a divine little shop on the edge of a picturesque park. A merchant of chocolate covered gummy bears {remember these?} and teacups. The smell of exotic tea is enough to draw passersby in. The nooks and crannies filled with delightful baubles and trinkets is enough to bring them back time and again.

I was pregnant with our firstborn, whom I was sure to be a girl. Amber Elaine. I was browsing the shop and partaking of gourmet gummy bears when I noticed it. The most perfect teacup and saucer. White with delicate pink rosebuds and a gold rim. And a tag that read $40. I craved that teacup. It was feminine and sweet. My motherly emotions cried for it. But $40? For a teacup? Not for newlyweds with a baby on the way, no matter what.

I brought Jake so that he may see perfection. And sighed at my misfortune, my inability to buy it. To represent my pregnancy. My child. The gift of motherhood. He agreed that it was a fine choice of teacups. And that was that.

Until.

Don’t you just love until?

I heard Jake’s footsteps as he climbed the stairs to my office. Closing time and my Knight was taking me home. He surprised me with a box with a bow. My teacup.

And the beginning of a legacy.

Two and a half years later. I slept. A fitful, painful sleep. The morning after the birth of our daughter, Juanita. Numb and in mourning I woke to my Knight kneeling by my bed. With a box and a bow. Her teacup.

And so it went.

Josh.

Sam.

And now Betsy.

Each with a teacup selected from Kobuk Coffee and packaged lovingly with a box and a bow. And the scent of exotic tea.

My prized possessions.

The benchmark I mentioned? The displaying of the teacups. They must have a safe haven. A place of honor, yet out of harm’s way.

Now we are settled.