The Wedding Gift

In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Set It To Rights.”

The pottery, first of all.  For our wedding, one of my distant cousins sent us a lovely set of hand-made coffee cups, saucers, and plates, crafted by an artist he knew.  They were oyster-shell grey and detailed with deep blue swirls, rustic-looking but very well made, and each piece was signed.  Twenty-five years later, I still have them.  My daughter took one of the coffee cups with her to college.

I rack my brain trying to remember whether I ever sent him a thank you card.

I recall having trouble finding his address.  He lived in another country and was in the process of moving at the time.  But surely, my mother could have routed a thank you card through his mother–her first cousin?  Did I even try that?

These were the days before email, Google, and Facebook, so no help there.

As time went on, I kept coming back to it:  Did I send the card?  Did I not?  The more time passed, the more awkward it became to track down my cousin and clarify, much less rectify the matter.

The gist of it is this:  I like to believe that I persisted, that I did find that address and send that thank you.  But I was young, self-absorbed, probably a little lazy.  Odds are I never sent it.  I’m really sorry.  I love those dishes.


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