Matchboxes

I read in the paper yesterday that Selfridges are selling posh matchboxes for as much as £843. Apparently…

There are cheaper ones than £843: they have some at £70. Well, well.

The last time we ran out of matches, I couldn’t find any on sale in either local  supermarket, but only in a small, sparsely stocked local shop. Matches don’t seem to be a staple any more, though they are in this house, where we depend on our log burning stoves for warmth.

When I have returned from visiting Isaac and family in Colorado, I have usually brought home at least one match box  - either from Bar Taco, my favourite Friday night place for margaritas, or from Brasserie Ten Ten, a European styled restaurant that Isaac and I like a lot. 

Isaac and me, August 2024

These matchboxes join the other small keepsakes from Colorado I keep in a box somewhere safe. 

But missing our American family, and wondering when, if ever, it will be safe to visit them again, I decided to use a box of Bar Taco matches, so I think of them every day when I light the fire. 

The other day on the phone I said to Wendy - “I wonder if you and I will ever be able to go to The Buff again for breakfast.” Breakfast at The Buff with Wendy is a staple event early on in every visit to Boulder: we have a thorough, frank catch-up. We both feel most comfortable when we talk straight. I feel blessed to have such a daughter-in-law as Wendy.

All this has made me think of that saying “You never know when it is the last time you do something.” It’s another version of treasuring the moment. Another version of being mindful.

How I miss them all. Fortunately they are planning on a summer visit here. I hope the jet fuel won’t have run out by then.