#SaturdayPlatterDay Musings 7.24.21

Although I wish I could claim credit, the platter featured in this round of #SaturdayPlatterDay was my mom’s creation. I’ve seen some of her artwork she did back in high school and they weren’t half bad. But trust me when I say this is her greatest masterpiece (the greatest masterpieces are always edible).

She put together this spread for a get together of folks she and my dad met while living in Shanghai. Her “Shanghai friends.” I felt like she should have been wearing a silk scarf and dark, oversized sunglasses when telling me about this event; maybe while also holding a martini and one of those comically long cigarettes that Cruella de Vil constantly smoked in 101 Dalmatians. My mother and her jet-setting past with all her international friends. A Saturday night spent setting out a masterpiece of a charcuterie board for her Shanghai friends to nibble on was a far cry from the Saturday nights of takeout pizza and a movie rental from Blockbuster that I grew up with.

I’m not saying either one is better, and I’m sure my mom would readily admit that both realities have their charms, but I think it’s fair to say my mom’s life is richer because of the wealth of experiences she has been granted in the past several years as an ex-pat. And the only reason our family ever ventured out past those familiar and cozy Saturday night rituals (other than Blockbuster going out of business. RIP.) was because opportunity called, and my mom answered with a resounding yes.

I’ve been thinking about that a lot lately. That day nearly six years ago when my parents told me they were moving with my two youngest brothers to Shanghai. I couldn’t comprehend and refused to try and understand why my parents would leave their perfectly good lives here in the US along with two of their four children just for the sake of this experience. It could end up being a complete disaster, I argued. At least by staying here, a good life was all but guaranteed.

But after years of cultivating my own adventures, many of them thanks to my parents’ international address and now that I’m the one leaving my parents and a perfectly good life behind for a new experience, I get it. Life can be good, like your favorite takeout pizza and a new movie rental good, but it doesn’t mean life’s goodness has to be limited to that one reality.

Moving to Seattle could be a complete disaster. Trust me, I’ve fantasized about a wide ranging collection of worst case scenarios. It could also be the greatest decision we have ever made in our young lives. Most likely though, it will be a mix of both, landing us solidly back into a good life. But the good life in Seattle is guaranteed to be different than the one we’re leaving behind in Grand Rapids. New friends, new routines, new views out our windows. And isn’t it a beautiful thing that we have the freedom and the opportunity to explore and expand our meaning of the good life?

I’m not saying I can accurately draw the line between contentment and complacency or between ambition and restlessness. Maybe leaving behind our good and happy lives in Grand Rapids is foolish. Maybe disappointment or, even worse, more restlessness is all we will find on the West Coast. But I long for a life rich with experience and stories that only come from taking chances. I want my life to be filled with both pizza Saturdays and charcuterie Saturdays. At least for now, I want to look back with cozy fondness and look forward with breathless anticipation. So Seattle, here we come.

Platter details: Looks like some meat… Some crackers… You’d have to ask my mom about the finer details. I wasn’t invited to the party.