In Pieces

 

I had one of those slow motion moments this week when all of a sudden I turned in the kitchen, by the sink, and I barely nearly touched the bowl, one of my favorite bowls in the world and it slid off the counter right down to the floor. I winced probably but I didn't curse or through a tantrum even though, as I said, this is one of my favorite pieces of ceramic. I'm not sure when it first entered my life. The bowl was always around at the house when I lived there. Dianne probably picked it up at some garage sale or some trip to desert industries or goodwill or something. DD is always looking for a bargain.

I don't know what I liked most about the little bowl. I liked its coloring and I liked its depth. I often would search for this stoneware when having one of my dishes like “Frank” a rice dish that I have to make. It's also good for garbrock as well as a bowl of chili or some other hot soup. One of the things I like best about this little guy was there a couple chips knocked out around his rim probably from when I watched dishes I'm always dropping dishes. Fortunately for me the ceramic was thrown into a box of items for me the house. I'm sure there's some deep psychological underlying feeling that connects me to this little device from my married days. Like I said however I didn't much flinch when I saw the process happening. I somehow knew it was time – – like there is a time when little ceramic bowl must meet its fate – – give me a break. It was like a form of acceptance from having more and more these moments as I age, as I get closer and closer to that transition point of when a longer be here. Maybe it's a form of letting go. I broke a number of items like this the last couple months. A couple of the things I've been able to glue back together like my New Orleans cup – – I don't know if it really is a New Orleans cup alike to believe that it is. That holds a huge amount of coffee or soup or whatever beverage the cup holds. Luckily when this cup broke in the sink their broken large enough pieces that I was able to easily glue back together but I doubt whatever hold a hot beverage again… Safely. Fortunately, that same day I found much smaller cup but with the same artwork which I figured was divine intervention or being awarded for something I did for someone else.

Perhaps the best thing about ceramic or glass dishes that teaches us, or me at least, that life is fragile and easily messed up so be careful what you do, say or act. You break something and it's always a difficult task trying to fix if it can be fixed. However, knowing this, be prepared to let the piece go. It's broken beyond repair. Enjoy, the memory of the time you had with the crockery and many great experiences of taste and fulfillment you pulled from that container. Maybe it's also a warning or a reminder to appreciate the vessels that you have left and know that any of them could be just one sink load of dishes away from destruction…