The Spoon That Held Hope I’d One Day Find Love

(((Coming up on our third wedding anniversary is making me nostalgic for that time when impossible dreams starting coming true. Sharing this column for you, who is still hoping to find love, and the friend who believes it’s possible, even when you can’t believe any longer. From June 2012:)))

It must’ve been about four years ago when I first heard about The Spoon.

Some of my best lady friends and I were on a Girls’ Trip to Charleston, SC. You know the kind where you leave behind the stresses of everyday life and head off to relax, eat too much, and laugh and explore.

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We ladies were taking a historic tour of downtown Charleston where the guide did an awesome job describing not only architecture and history, but also the longtime local customs of the area that was once dominated by rice plantations.

“A lady was not considered a proper Southern Bride,” Wonderful Guide Lady explained, “until she’d been gifted with a Charleston Rice Spoon.

She happened to have one handy as she explained it might look like a regular silver serving spoon with a long handle, but “Look at the other end. The bowl is bigger. It’s the size of a human hand and it always dishes up a perfect serving of rice.”

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I was fascinated with the idea of this spoon, as I have been most things connected to marriage and weddings. See, I’ve done some really big things in my life: been a network news anchor, traveled the world, loved, been loved. But the idea that a man I loved would want to marry me and make a life together—that seemed as far away and out of reach as some of my adventures might seem to you.

Just as I had pretty much given up on that dream about two years ago, along comes the man I like to refer to in this column as “Mr. SummerFest.” We were introduced by mutual friends at a summer festival weeks before he happened to be moving a couple blocks down from me in my same neighborhood. Not quite the boy-next-door, but boy-next-block sure was nice after too many long distance relationships.

We’ve had a wonderful two years of love, friendship, and a lot of fun. Two weeks ago, Mr. SummerFest lured my dog, my 3-legged cat and then me, into my backyard in front of my three chickens. It was there he got down on one knee and asked me to be his wife. There was no flashmob, nothing you will see with a million hits on YouTube.

“There was no place on Earth I could think of,” he explained that would mean more to you than in front of all your animals.”

He was right. It was perfect. Oh, to be known and be loved.

And so that brings me to last Saturday. My friend, Tricia, and I wrapped up our weekly ladies run. “I have something for you,” she said.

There sitting amidst a bridey gift bag and lots of tissue paper was, you might’ve guessed, my very own Charleston Rice Spoon. Turns out she’s had it for me since that trip four years ago.

spoon with rice

I can’t stop looking at that spoon and smiling.

Smiling for seemingly impossible dreams that do come true.

Smiling for friends that hold space and believe in my wishes long before I dare to.

And of course, smiling for the always perfect servings of rice I will dish up in the home I will soon share with my Mr. SummerFest.

Please catch my weekly column in The Atlanta Journal Constitution and The Dayton Daily News.

(Just in case you have a friend that needs a Charleston Rice Spoon to become a proper bride, you can find one here.)

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The Spoon That Held Hope I’d One Day Find Love

by DarynKagan time to read: 3 min
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