Evidence of a Good Life

I feel good about the weirdest things.

This week I’m wallowing in the recognition

that our worn table napkins validate a fine lifestyle:

Not just great dining but a higher level of living.

It started when my husband suggested new napkins.

The dozen white cotton dinner napkins that we use daily

are thin and frayed around the edges.

But they’re soft, feel good, and proof of thousands of dinners for two.

The same old couple dabbing and wiping until their napkins are threadbare.

You can’t replace that. Worn table napkins are symbolic of:

the soft touch of wrinkled hands, worn elbow patches on a favorite sweater,

a book with eared pages, a fireplace stained by smoke.

Testimony of a meaningful life.

New napkins would offer a promise; old ones are evidence.

On my list of wishes for my children: worn napkins.