Shattered

I smashed a favourite breakfast bowl last night.

Now, here's a reason why I shouldn't put the dishes away late at night. I turned the bowl over in my hands and as soon as I had, I realised I hadn't gripped it propperly and it went plummeting down to the floor. I knew it was a gonner. It would've landed safely on the plants but instead it knicked the edge of a cast iron frypan (that was on the ground so it would be out the way).

Thanks to my lightning fast reflexes it was all I could manage just to shut my eyes in time. I didn't see the moment of impact (but that was SOME comotion, a mighty clattering) but that was just as well as I felt a veritable spray of ceramic (one shard even deflecting off my eyelid). After the fragments of a once complete vessel parted company there was a split second silence before the pieces rained back down (some even landing on the bench) to cover everything like pointy little snowflakes.

All I have left is most of a rim, the base and a half dozen or so spikes, plus the white chaff. Needless to say it's beyond repair. I miss my bowl. I had been planning our future together. It was going to be great.

Later that evening, whilst brushing my teeth, I noticed in the mirror that there was still a piece of bowl stuck on my eyelid. Praise God for eyelids!