Dear Bowl,You were vintage and cool. I got you for a quarter at a yard sale in Olean, New York, in the 1980's and we had a very long thing together, travelling from place to place until we got here. But recently, seemingly out of nowhere, you developed a crack in your side. Or maybe it was always there, it just got more pronounced with time. And I didn't want to toss you out because you still held water, you were beautiful, and I am cheap. But tonight, after making roasted root vegetables with the produce I got at the Union Square Greenmarket, I washed you/dried you /stacked you between two dishes that you couldn't handle, and you crapped yourself for good, and a large piece of you fractured off and fell onto the floor. I'm sad, but I realize that you needed to break up with me. What's wrong with me, keeping a broken bowl around? For some reason, I just couldn't break up with you. I guess I loved you too much, damage and all. It's fine, just a part of life. No bigs. We'll be facebook friends! One day. Promise.
Goodbye, bowl! Enjoy the landfill. Make it nice!
Love,
Anne
4 comments:
my condolences on the lose of your bowl..I assume it was just its time..It is probably in a better place..
Absolutely adorable post. I know the feeling!
In honor of your bowl, I made soup this morning.
Sadly, life is filled with little comings and goings. We are so temporary that even the most fleeting attachment gains meaning in our existance. Like Orson Welles, the last words you utter may well be, "Rosebud (bowl)."
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