I have THE TEAPOT
It was Gran Sarah's teapot, and as such meant a lot to my father. That teapot was a vision of home to him. When Gran died, the teapot went to Aunt Win, (whose sewing machine with its treasure trove drawers I was later to inherit also.) When Aunt Win died, Dad was down there like a shot. He wanted that teapot. It's a Wedgewood style teapot in blue and white, but someone of the family found it quite funny that my little father wanted it. 'It's not Wedgewood, you know.' Dad came home with his teapot, he was almost in tears.
Does something have to be valuable before you can love it?
I don't think so, because now that teapot sits on a shelf along with Gran Sarah's two little china figues of a boy and girl, and a fantastic glass mushroom that we brought back from one of our holidays in Switzerland. Blue and white and glittering glass. Yes, that's my home and what will be passed on down to son and heir.