Today I broke one of my favorite bowls. Not completely– I just happened to mar the lip enough to make it look wonky, but it didn't shatter completely. It was a careless accident, really: I was overager to pull it out of the dishwasher as soon as it had stopped so I could fill my pretty red bowl with pretty red cranberry sauce for tomorrow's feast. In my zeal, I was blinded by a dense plume of steam from the just-done dishwasher and I caught the side of the bowl with the counter's granite lip.
Stupid, silly, pointless. My heart ached for the bowl that won't be the same –my pretty bowl that I got for my birthday last year and the vessel for countless side dishes and candy and fruit.
And yet, it's also stupid, silly and pointless to linger very long over my little bowl that was. The sauce looks just as pretty in a small metal bowl I'd been snubbing earlier, deeming it too small or plain. The sauce, delicious and just slightly acidic and tannic and laced with a happy drizzle of triple sec, is chilling safely in the fridge. It waits to be eaten happily and eagerly tomorrow by our family and guests.
Overall, I think we've more than broken the bowl: we've broken even.
May you and your loved ones take time to remember what is truly important today, tomorrow, and every day.
A Daily Dose of Zen Sarcasm! 