It had to happen one day. My favourite glass is broken. Smashed to smitherines. Tiny little pieces. Broken. Broken. Gone!!!!
Oh how I will miss my glass.
I have used this glass everyday since the day I got it and that was YEARS ago. It held a cool 375ml. A whole can. It survived little boys. It survived parties. It survived Christmases and New Years. It survived countless knocks on the kitchen tap when washing, and most of the colouring was gone by the end. It survived waggy dog tails brushing by the coffee table, and it survived the odd running about the house wars with Nerf Guns.
But it is now gone. The sad day has come.
We were mucking around.
One flick of the tea towel and it went. Slow motion I watched it, with dread in my eyes… as it fell and smashed, tinkling to the ground, flying glass everywhere.
The whole house stopped. The children frozen just looked at me in horror for my reaction.
I didn’t cry. I didn’t get upset. I jtook a breath and cleaned it up. My girl spent the next hour looking for a way to paint a new glass for me. She ended up stamping an owl with stazon and painting in flourishes, which all but came off when she cleaned it. Little sweety.
So I took all the little pieces of my glass and put them in a box to go into the bin, it was a chocolate box no less. What a way to go… in a chocolate box.
At family dinner tonight we told the news and brought out the replacement glass.
Not the same.