31 spoons
27 knives
25 dinner forks
11 salad forks
3 ladles
2 butter knives
2 cake servers
1 bread knife
1 ice tongs
1 cocktail fork
1 tomato server
1 letter opener
and 1 complete tea service.

This is the family silver
inherited from my mother
who guarded them in life
as if her worth
depended on it.
She built a secret hiding place
issued secret instructions
ceremoniously cherished every piece
and dutifully shouldered the legacy
of unkind ancestors
as if it were her honor.

112 pieces of silver
22 hours of my life
researching, inquiring, packing, shipping
Total worth:
$100.50

My mother spent decades
protecting the worthless.
She held as precious
what was nothing
but cheap, common tools —
nothing but
misplaced ambition,
and misguided aspiration
like her mother’s pearl necklace
reverentially bestowed upon me
like a prized heirloom –
pretentious gems
revealed as fakes
like my grandmother.

She buffed and polished
my mother into a design
of her own desires.
My mother posed and pleased
but yearned to be one of the boys
just for the respect.
She avoided forging me but
ended up forcing me
to carry the resentment and envy
of her lineage anyway.
Six generations of daughters,
dusty farms
hardened shame
suppressed genius
and our mothers’
stoic trauma.

Meanwhile, my father’s genius
was granted a seat
at a celebrated banquet table.
A class refugee,
he abandoned his culture
by the roadside
en route to opportunity
which earned silver medals
he tossed aside to me
like a worthless penny
in a fountain
bearing a careless wish.

21 silver medals
Total worth:
$1,365.00

My mother clung to value
where there was none
like a ghost clings
to the site of their demise,
unable to go home.

My father denied value
where it abounded
like a miser covets
what he already owns,
eternally empty and unsatisfied.

Both were blind to true worth.
Both failed to discern
the true value of things,
including the treasure
family truly brings.

I am the child
of both.

© S. Rinderle, August 2023