Cupping my hands around this bowl 95 triggered a melange of memories. Its roundness felt so universal. Its softness so comforting. I knew it had to live at the center of my dining table. Like the bowl my table is round, a shape that when surrounded by four or six people, fosters communication. Perched on its red pedestal, smack in the middle, it entered our lives with every bite of food, with every guest who visited. In fact it served as the guest of honor for three months, eliciting comments, raising curiosity. Wanting this bowl to feel at home and part of my family and friends, I brought gifts to its sides. Burning candles brought warmth, rocks collected from various parts of the world nestled nearby. But mostly, it was surrounded by food, wine and the love of those of us breaking bread. When I reluctantly passed it on, I felt it took new memories to another home.
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