It happened so fast that it took me a few seconds to realize what had happened.
I had that fleeting, completely irrational wish for time to rewind, for a second chance, for it to be undone…
and I felt the tears tickling the back of my eyes, my eyelid twitching, my nose burning like I was on the verge of sneezing.
And I cried. I couldn’t help it.
I looked down at the shards of glass at my feet, saw the thousand tiny sparkling specs cast across the kitchen and dining room floor.
I plopped down and brought my knees to my chest and sobbed.
It just wasn’t fair.
It wasn’t fair. I was so klutzy, I dropped everything. I ruined everything.
Nana would be so upset.
The antique crystal punch bowl that she loved, along with all 12 cups – shattered on the floor of my home that she never got to see.
She would have asked me what I thought I was doing, trying to bring that heavy thing down from the cabinet without help.
My last memento of my Nana, gone.
Just like the set of wine glasses that I so foolishly set out at my last party; all of which were broken by guests.
Just like the handmade ornaments she made when I was a child; torn apart by the kittens.
I stood on top of the kitchen counter in my bare feet, holding onto the top of the cabinet with one hand while I tried to pick up my great-grandmother’s antique crystal punch bowl with the other.
A horrid scene played out in my mind.
I hopped off the counter and called out to my husband, “Honey! Can you help me with this punch bowl?”
“I don’t want to drop it.”
* This is fiction…but every time I have a party, I am terrified of breaking this punch bowl. For some reason, this is what came to mind when I thought “Crash.” Also? This prompt is 5 days late…what can I say, it’s been a busy week.
Better late than never!