My Happy Plates

colorful plates
I often think that in many ways, we do not really change. Sure, as we grow and mature, people’s tastes and preferences change but somewhere deep inside the recesses of my soul, methinks we change only within a set range of boundaries, that we never get to break past our inherent nature. The introvert will always remain shy and the gregarious will always remain loud.


We are created differently and the sooner we embrace our natural traits, the more comfortable we’ll be in our own skin. This realization struck me some weeks past when I was roaming in the city for that “me” time that my husband graciously obliges me without fail every week. I always feel happy with these solitary jaunts into thrifting, grocery and window-shopping.


The moment I laid eyes on these happy, colorful plates, I just knew I had to have them. And I mean ASAP. Their cheery vibe just resonates with my soul. I know in my heart of hearts that it doesn’t matter where I am in my life — whether now that I’m fortyish or back when I was a single girl or a little girl even — I knew something about them and about me would just click.

You see I believe in like at first sight. (Not love at first sight since love involves mutual reciprocity.) I like my husband the first time I saw him, for example. And he felt the same, which is such a blessing. The point is, liking something just happens. And the liking is dictated by how we’ve been hardwired deep inside.


Now back to the plates. I realize that I have never really changed, or at least not significantly. I was the girl who played with kitchen play sets more than with dolls. I never even owned a single Barbie doll. I went on to becoming a teenager who would strangely frequent kitchen and household sections and not just the clothes department. My dear mama can attest how I would bring home a household item as one of my pasalubong whenever I came home from college. A sign of my domestic diva-ness perhaps?


These happy plates are cheap really. If you dare look at them very closely, you will see little imperfections which make them even lovelier to me, for then they assume a homely, down-to-earth appeal. They are now somewhere in my home, prized possessions that I know will look good propped up atop a kitchen cabinet or lined up on a console table. (Now, if we only get to have our own house.)


Ever since, I never have been into “brands.” I just let myself be drawn to a thing, book, dress or food without minding labels. The fact is that I am put off by extravagance. Why, they’re downright intimidating. I like homely, comfortable, warm and yes, beautiful things and places and people. (That’s why I have the kind of husband that I have.)


These happy plates remind me of happy meals, of a family noisily sharing a meal, talking about mundane and trivial things that together make a scrapbook of indelible memories. I will not use these as everyday dishes as they’re far too lovely to risk being broken. I’ll use them occasionally, as a way to celebrate milestones, but they’re best used for the eyes only. Besides, they might steal the limelight from the food. They may be nothing but objects but they’re things of beauty and things of beauty are a joy forever.


I deliberately bought, not a set of uniform designs but a set of distinct patterns and colors. They remind me of the wonder of diversity — of different kinds of personalities all working together, sometimes clashing against each other, but ultimately all complementing the others’ personality quirks. Family really is family, no matter what. We’re all different, yet we blend in a strange way.


Sorry for deviating from the usual health and food-related posts. Sometimes I just feel I have to air my soul out. That’s an important part of health and wellness anyway.


If you enjoyed this, you may also enjoy my spice rack.

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