This is one my favorite pieces of writing, which is why I reposted in a personal blog (yes, another blog) from my previous baby blog. It’s, what I think, a lovely story that I told myself in my head when I saw this spoon almost a year from when I stole it.
One year ago, I drunkenly stole this tiny tiny spoon from Mark’s office Christmas party. I wore a black dress (my old college graduation dress actually), had red lipstick on, and wore a pair of black heels my mom no longer wanted.
I was excited to be out because I was stuck in the apartment job hunting ever since we arrived in Austin. I drank way too much whiskey and made Mark dance with me. I had so much fun and ate two desserts because it was a buffet and I didn’t give a shit. I gladly took my complimentary champagne glass and toasted to something I don’t even remember today, most likely to “another successful year and here’s to another one in 2015!”
I loved the fancy little spoons left on the tables so right before we left, I grabbed one and quickly shoved it in my purse. Not because I was afraid that they would make me return it but because I was afraid that Mark’s coworkers would think, “Why is Mark’s weird girlfriend stealing silverware? And why is she stealing a useless tiny spoon? Why not a regular-sized spoon?” Said spoon is currently our sugar spoon.
And all that time little did I know that Miles was growing in my belly. He was just trucking along doing his thing and becoming a baby and there I was stealing spoons.