When they went home, they craved those potato chips. But their mothers told them, “Ah yes, I remember eating those chips when I was young like you. I can give you chips if you wish, but they will not nearly be as delicious as the ones your grandmother gives you.”
“Why not?” the children asked.
“Because your grandmother has three magical yellow bowls that she fills with chips. It is the bowl that makes the potato chip so delicious. You will just have to wait to spend a night at your grandmother’s house.”
The children eagerly awaited their next visit to grandmother’s so they could eat chips from the magic bowls.
Eventually, the children grew to be adults and they went to far away lands on quests of their own. Every time they had a potato chip they were disappointed. It just wasn’t as good as the ones in the magic yellow bowl.
“Those chips had just the right amount of salt,” thought one grandchild.
“Those chips had just the right amount of crunch,” thought the other.
“Those chips had just the right amount of greasy goodness,” thought the other.
They sighed a simultaneous sigh though they were millions of miles apart in lands far away.
One day they returned to their grandmother’s house, but it was not the same. Grandmother’s house was smaller. Grandmother’s kitchen cabinets were smaller. Grandmother herself was smaller.
“Grandmother,” they asked. “Can we have some of your chips?”
“Of course you can!”
She was so delighted to see them and to feed them again.
But when she put out the chips, they came in one big silver bowl.
“Where are your three yellow bowls?” the grandchildren asked.
“Oh well now… I don’t know where they ended up. A lot has changed since you’ve been gone.”
They each took a bite from a chip of the silver bowl, hoping that it might taste the same. It didn’t. It tasted nothing like the chips from the magic yellow bowls.
“But I thought those bowls were magical grandmother, how could you part from them?”
“Magic bowls come and magic bowls go. Big houses come and big houses go. Beloved people come and beloved people go. I am left alone. Now you are here, but you will go. Now I am here, but one day I will go. Yes, grandchildren, bowls come and bowls go, naught but love remains.”