Last summer, in addition to rescuing some family china (which I wrote about last week), I was entrusted with my great great aunt’s silver – a variety of pieces of Oneida’s Community Plate collection in lovely patterns with names like Chateau Rose, Patrician, and Tudor. Like the teacups I turned into pincushions, I will upcycle these pieces into some kind of keepsakes I can share with my family (hint: I’m leaning toward jewelry). But before any of that could happen, I needed to clean it all.

The gift of having something to do propelled me out of bed yesterday morning and after four hours I’d cleaned about half of what I have. My best guess: it’s been at least 40 years since any of this has been used and it shows. Lots of Googling convinced me to start with baking soda and boiling water, poured over the silver in a dish lined with aluminum foil (shiny side up). I watched as the ingredients reacted with one another, my own little science experiment, and it seemed to help remove the first layer of tarnish. After that it was just elbow grease and Wright’s Silver Cream.

While I worked, I let the synonyms for luminous loll around in my head and thought about my own loss of luster. I packed myself away so poorly, each time my heart took a hit. Job loss. Failed relationships. Painful experiences led me to shove my brightest bits into the back of a closet with no protection or plan for bringing them out again. It’s no wonder I no longer shine.

When my back couldn’t abide standing at the kitchen sink any longer, I paused my cleaning project and sat down to write. I wonder what could be my equivalent to a baking soda bath – something I can immerse myself in that would kickstart the recovery process? If only there were a silver cream for the potential I’ve let languish; a cloth gentle enough to use on my heart.

I left the silverware spread out across my table so I could admire the results each time I walked through my kitchen. Lying next to each other, it’s easy to see that some pieces need a second pass. Clearly, it’s a process. I will try to remember that and apply the same patience with myself, as I work to reclaim my own brilliance.