Building Home, One Bowl at a Time by Suri Jiang
The first time my family and I moved states, from Texas to Connecticut, I learned a lot about optimization. There were only so many essentials we could pack with us and even more belongings we opted to leave behind. As we discarded items that constructed my sense of home, donating books, kitchenware, clothes, and even furniture, the prospect of starting a new home began to loom imminently.
The first items we restocked upon arrival were plates. Among teetering whites and blues on shelves at a nearby market, we chose four pristine, salmon-pink bowls decorated with a whimsical cat with delicate brown features.
They were nothing like we had owned before — a playful and bright bowl for each of us. They set the tone, the first objects central to our new home, and the first words of a new chapter. Sometimes passed around the table full of grapes and or filled with soup at family meals, they became fixtures of how we lived in this new place even as it became less new. Over the past thirteen years, the notable color has faded to a muted bubblegum pink, but their value within our home continues to multiply.
This winter, I accidentally shattered one of the four delicate bowls. Each fragment I cleaned off the ground was a reminder of the life we’ve built and how far we’ve come — a reminder that our story is continuously developing; our homes are witnesses to our growth.
When we give gifts, whether celebrating weddings or relocations, we’re contributing to the foundation of a future home. A gift to a new couple symbolizes their future, their joyous home, and the gatherings they’ll have. The gift item speaks to the life and memories they’ll build together, a foundation of their future. To gift someone something that helps them set their table is to build the instrument that will create their story.
Gathering is at the heart of a home. Items first become part of a routine. Gradually, they become invitations to share with friends, a powerful yet vulnerable act. A bowl houses a simple breakfast of a favorite cereal in milk. When friends enter the front door and share a meal, the bowl is then passed around with popcorn as they gather to watch a movie on a Friday night. A plate is repeatedly filled as chatter and laughter rise over the heads of guests.
After perfectly softening from hundreds of washes, a linen tea towel yields to the touch in a way that feels like home. A well-worn cutting board is a tell-tale witness to the homemade meals over the years.
Our three remaining three muted pink bowls in our cabinet continue to hold our favorite fruits, savory snacks, and sweet treats on our weekend board game nights.
Home is in the set of mismatched plates, bought at different parts of our lives, on the dinner table together. Home, I’ve learned, is about the ease and presence of others. It’s about fostering an environment for stories and people. When we give gifts that help to set a table, we are providing the canvas for a community to bloom. We become collaborators in turning a house into a home by amplifying the love and warmth brought through the door.
This piece is written by Suri Jiang, a senior at Miss Porter's School in Farmington, CT.