The Thumbsized Salt and Pepper Shakers

A number of years ago my long time neighbour and friend Brenda gave me two tiny salt and pepper shakers no bigger than my thumb. Their shape is adorable, the salt shaker being a tiny white house that looks like a two story little chalet, the pepper shaker its red version. The tiny chimneys are just too cute. I decide not to use the tiny items, but glue them on the top part of my stove, like tiny houses maybe little sprites would visit. Every time I look at the tiny gift, I smile. The other night I was up late, and as I stood getting a drink of water, the tiny houses took on a deeper meaning. I saw my house, which is red, and I thougth of how the nearness of my friends' houses had made such a difference in my life, so far away from my native land and so far away from any blood family. Brenda's home, Diane's home, Maricela's home, all homes where over the past 20 years I have enjoyed many a happy meal and happy time. My next door neighbour of 25 years, Karen, made a small cross stitch with two similar looking little chalet style houses with the inscription " A good neighbour is a blessing". In my case, truer words were never spoken. My neighbours and friends became my new family. The tiny shakers are glued to the top of my stove, and may look like just a bit of whimsy, but to me my neighbours and friends became the glue that gives a deeper meaning to my immigrant experience and that made bearable each time the loss of native language, culture and clan. It is tempting at times to dismiss the so called knickknacks people, including me, gather and display in their homes. But I know that sometimes what looks like a naive or just silly item can hold deep meaning and purpose. I have items like that all across my small house that really does look like a well organized and busy curio shop, but those two thumb sized salt and pepper shakers mean the world to me. They remind me I have a cozy home, and that I am welcome in other homes. They tell me I matter enough to break bread with others in their home, to be invited in, to stay a while, to laugh and talk a while, to return to my own home refreshed, reassured. When I was growing up that kind of experience was common and often therefore taken for granted. As an immigrant who made this country my home, the experience of going to a neighbour's or friend's home, to eat, to linger a while ,to visit, to celebrate, to share, is a treat each and every time. That is why I display the tiny gift in such a visible place, and why they make me so grateful each time I look at them.