I sometimes have clumsy episodes that result in a dish getting broken; usually, it isn't something that happens more often that once a year. Now it's happened twice in a month - and for two items that held special significance to me:
- Early in January, I broke a bowl that was part of the dishware that bubie Ann used to have.
She died in the summer of 1988... these dishes are all I have left of her - and now, I have one less.
- Tonight I broke another bowl - one that happened to be the only thing I bought in 1986, when I first had an apartment to myself. The store I purchased it at is long gone; now, after 14 years, so is the dish.
Memories can be held in objects. Sometimes, they break. I just hope the memories don't break with them.
