heavy metals

[heavy metals]

Over the last ten years, my husband and I have accumulated a collection of uneven kitchen forks in our home. They seemingly come from differing fork sets - though we have no memory of buying more than one.

Some have flat, wide hilts, while others are round. And there are two smaller forks that differ drastically in size from the others lying around in the crowded drawer.

I’ve come to like those two the most. While it doesn’t really matter, I often find my fingers searching for them amongst the rest.

My husband, on the other hand, has no preference for the forks. They serve one purpose for him. Over dinner, smallest fork in hand, I confess to him my silverware secrets - my love of little forks. He does not judge.

Instead, I’ve come to notice that my husband’s hand has become more precise as it moves around inside of our kitchen drawer.

I notice he saves the little forks for me.

And I can’t help but think that this is a story about marriage, in a way.

But sometime over these last ten years, we’ve raised a child who is old enough to now have fork preferences of her own. She confesses to me, over macaroni and cheese, that she has noticed there are two small forks that differ drastically in size from the others lying around in the crowded drawer. She’s come to love those two the most, she says.

I tell her sweetly that, just like her blue eyes, she must get her fork preferences from me. And we giggle to know we share this, like a secret handshake - our love of little forks.

And I’ve come to notice my hand has become more precise as it moves around inside of our kitchen drawer.

I notice that I now save the little forks for her.

And I can’t help but think that this is a story about parenthood, in a way.

Save the little things for someone you love.

until next time. -cd