The Most Beautiful Salad Plate in the World
A tribute to long lasting relationships
In October 2012, outfitting an apartment in our new state of Florida, my husband and I found the most beautiful plate in the world. It was on discount, at a Ross, there in Tampa. It’s a “salad plate” or “dessert plate” — i.e. the smaller kind, not big enough for a large meal unless you really pile it high (which I tend to do, actually, because I love to use the most beautiful plate in the world as often as I can).
What initially fascinated me about the most beautiful plate in the world is the design, which looks like a field of wide-open eyes. They are off-white circles with a dot in the center, set in a deep blue background. They remind me of the charms against the “evil eye” that were hanging in every gift shop when I traveled to Israel and the Palestinian West Bank. The myriad eyes on the plate also make me think of the idea that God is something like an all-encompassing consciousness — like the biblical cherubim, covered in eyes.
The most beautiful plate in the world was dubbed the “Eyeball Plate” when we first bought it. When we moved cross country again three years later, we again got rid of almost all our stuff instead of trying to move everything. The Eyeball Plate was so beloved that I decided it was worth taking across the country. So it traveled with us to Duvall, WA and then Bremerton, WA, and then Austin, TX, and just before we moved back to Washington, I started calling it “the most beautiful plate in the world.”
When I first found it, the plate was lovely and intriguing. But after several years of enjoying its aesthetic qualities — how the deep blue hue makes me feel, as I gaze into it, as if I’m diving into an invitingly endless night; the classic color scheme, so simple and traditional; the “eyeball” design, so pleasing yet slightly odd in a way that tickles my brain; and its thickness, its weight, the softly rounded edge that give it such a solid, sturdy feel — having now cherished these many qualities over and over, day after day, year over year, the accumulation of affection wells into my naming it the most beautiful plate in the world.
With that most recent relocation, my husband of 14 years and I separated. So it seems a bit ironic to me that I’m writing today about how love can, not just endure but even, grow through appreciating something day by day and year after year, for the same simple qualities. Isn’t it supposed to be that that kind of love will keep your marriage strong forever?
Well, I have appreciated my ex in that way. I’ve never stopped delighting in his quirky humor, his comfort-seeking habits, his trivial but immutable likes and dislikes, the way he remembers capitols of foreign countries most Americans aren’t aware exist, but forgets his debit card as he’s leaving the checkout counter. And in the recollection of his many idiosyncratic jokes, discerning observations, demonstrations of integrity, and honest admissions of need, I feel an inestimable accumulation of affection for the greatest friend I’ve ever had or hope to find.
That said, our marriage was doomed from the beginning (a story for another day). And, understandably, there were a couple times he almost left me — once about a year before the Eyeball Plate came along, and again the year we found it. He’s told me that he might have thought it was a mistake for him to stay but for one thing: we made it work long enough and well enough to decide, at a high point in our partnership, that it was a good idea to have a child together. And now that she’s here, even though we’ve finally admitted the marriage was inherently flawed and should not continue, it doesn’t feel as much a tragedy to end it because it’s certain now that we will always remain, in some way, connected.
Even if I don’t see as much of my daughter’s father as I used to, she will speak of him and she will act like him and she will remind me, always, of the things I love and appreciate about him. It seems to be the curse of some divorced parents that their children confront them with the issues they never resolved in their marriage. Perhaps the opposite can be true for those whose relationship ended with loving appreciation rather than resentment.
Certainly, getting divorced is not at all what I had imagined and hoped for my life. And I have spent some time, lately, in self-pity. But it brings me a sense of peace when I experience myself in relationship to the world as if I were simply an eye myself — observing without judgement, not wishing that things were different, not trying to bring back the past or rush to an imagined future, but simply present to what is here, what I can appreciate right now: my beloved daughter. A one-of-a-kind friend and co-parent. And, of course, the most beautiful plate in the world.
