when a broken vase brings back old memories
Last week, my mother’s favorite flower vase—one she’d cherished since I was a child—slipped from her hands and shattered on our kitchen floor. I watched her stand there, silent for a moment, then quietly gather the pieces. Instead of tossing them, she reached for an old mason jar, filled it with water, and arranged her garden blooms inside.
It struck me how she clung to the old ways—making do, finding beauty in what’s left, just like her mother did during tough times. I remember my own kids rolling their eyes at my patchwork fixes, always preferring something new and shiny from the store. They say it’s more convenient, more modern. But is it really better?
Here in our North American neighborhoods, I see more folks tossing out the old, eager for the latest trends. Yet, every time I walk past my mother’s makeshift vase, I feel a warmth that no store-bought item can match. Maybe it’s the memory of childhood gardens, or the quiet resilience of those who came before us.
Some neighbors say a mismatched jar ruins the look of a tidy home, while others praise the resourcefulness and nostalgia. Should we value tradition and personal history, or chase after the picture-perfect homes we see online? As the seasons change and our gardens bloom, I wonder: which matters more—appearance or meaning?
#familymemories #gardentraditions #upcycling #Gardening
