My Mothers Bowl

Tonight I washed my mothers bowl. It started off routinely as ever. I squeezed a bit of soap into it's middle then worked my way outwards. As I turned it over in the sink I noticed the sticker at the bottom of the bowl that read "K Hamann" I smiled, knowing this was how my mother had marked this bowl for herself. It's the same sticker that had been there for forever though recently the edges curled up a bit and the writing was slightly faded. I traced it with my fingers slowly, feeling the slippery surface of the tape. Then I realized, someday when I inherit these pots and pans and dishware, and have my own shelves and cupboards to place them in,  that I'll have to replace the sticker on this particular bowl with a new one, with a new name. It wont be a Hamann bowl any longer, I wont be a Hamann any longer. I felt a bit of sadness fall over me. A twinge of the heart made me feel a little heavier inside. I'm going to miss that name. I"m going to miss my family and the way things have always been. Growing up, though exciting and wonderful,  seems to come at you so fast sometimes.