In recent grandmotherly musings, I have come to realize my position in the family tree is a nexus of sorts, in that I knew two generations in the past and now know two generations into the future. This brings with it the gentle obligation and privilege to keep alive the memory of family members my grandchildren will never know. Often these memories are of the every-day sort: “Grandmama squeezed my hand three times to say ‘I love you.’ “ “Grandma always said, “if you’re not careful, you’ll learn something new every day.” And so on. Sometimes it’s a favorite Bible verse, or a song, or even a color. Which brings us to today’s story.

A sugar bowl. You have one, I have one. Maybe more than one. But remarkably, something as mundane as a sugar bowl can hold priceless intangibles, memories that, if this bit of porcelain were lost, would themselves be irretrievably lost.