She saw the tea cup decorated with red roses in the antique shop and she knew she had to buy it. She was sure her grandmother had a tea cup identical to it. She had always loved that tea cup. Whatever had happened to it?
It was funny how a simple tea cup made her think about her grandmother for the rest of the day. She had regrets that she had never tried to get to know her grandmother better, for now it was too late. The tea cup was a symbol of her grandmother’s struggles, of a hard life. Her life had so many more opportunities and physical comfort compared to that of her grandmother.
She was never quite sure what to say to her grandmother, after all they didn’t seem to have much in common. Now she wondered, what part of my grandmother is in me? There was the faintest hint of her grandmother’s bone structure in her face.
The tea cup was always on display, one of her grandmother’s treasured items in her small house. Grandmother kept her house neat, and took good care of everything she had.
Grandmother was a “little old lady” presumably delicate. However she’d lived a much harder life than her granddaughter. Her parents had come from the old world. Grandmother dropped out of school at an early age to begin working. She’d worked on and off throughout her adult life, out of economic necessity. Those memes about fifties housewives, they’d never quite applied to her.
She found a treasured place for the tea cup with red roses. Every time she looked at it she would smile just a little bit and think of her grandmother.