The pattern is called Desert Rose. Both sets of my grandparents had this in their cupboards. One grandmother served pimento cheese sandwiches for lunch on these little plates. The other grandfather made my morning eggs on it. He asked me how I wanted them cooked and taught me the mysteries of egg language. Over Easy. Boiled. Poached. I learned that I wanted them Fried Hard. Grandfather scrambled his own and used the large pepper grinder along with lots of salt.
When you come to visit me, I'll pull out the Desert Rose cups for Bombay Chai or White Orchard Tea. We'll talk about our jobs and our children. We'll talk about our music and our art. We'll talk about our grandmothers and our grandfathers. Our mothers and our fathers. I'll remember how Helen liked her toast burned black and Billy liked his toast barely warm with a wisp of gold on the edge. Alice had a little pot for raspberry jam that I'll pull out of the cupboard to show you. And we will be glad for the piece of china memory.
