This old candy dish comes out every spring. Easter wouldn’t be the same without it. This year, I filled it with jelly beans and moved it around to a few different spots until I found where I liked it most. I love old things.
I vaguely remembered, so I flipped over the bottom; and yes, there it was: JAN 80. That makes it 42 years old at this point here in 2022. Forty-two years since I sat at the age of 18 on a folding chair at a folding table in the basement of Mary Hickey, a nice lady offering ceramics classes in her home in my hometown. My then boyfriend’s mother Marie asked me to go with her, and we listened excited to create our first projects. I remember the instructions to carve my name or initials — anything — to identify this candy dish as my candy dish. JAN 80. Not January 1980 but JAN — me — 1980.
Marie became my mother-in-law, and how many times have her son’s and my two littles (now bigs) grabbed ahold of that bunny to lift the lid and find the goodies inside? They’ll do it again this weekend when they visit and find jelly beans. I can’t wait!
