The Sugar Bowl

It was just a Corelle sugar bowl. From probably the early 90s. Not those old blue ones I see in news articles that are worth thousands of dollars ( I have those too).

Just a little sugar bowl like the picture below.

When we moved to mom and dad's house, or rather, AS we were doing the move, bit by bit last fall, one of the first things I did was bring my dishes over and move mom's over to the other house where DS2 is living now. It was part of my psychology of moving in.

But I didn't touch the sugar bowl.

That bowl sat in the middle of the table for years. It was there when we came to supper with mom and dad. It was there for morning coffee or afternoon tea.  It was what I played in, slowly picking the sugar up with the spoon and letting it fall back into bowl. My own kind of zen garden I guess.

My mom would bug me and tell me to quit playing in the sugar.

My dad spilled it accidentally one day and 'blamed' me. We all had a good laugh over that.

When DS1's girlfriend did one of her first visits over here, she too mindlessly dipped up sugar and let it slide off the spoon. That's when mom knew she was the right one for my son :-)

After mom passed it stayed on the table and was there as my sister and I tried to maintain 'normal' with dad... morning coffee and afternoon tea.

And when he passed it was one of the things in the kitchen I purposely didn't touch.

I've had a tough go mentally. I still have to 'not think' about why I am living here in this house. It's just too hard. I remember what I lost, and I remember finding him here, in the house.

I just appreciate the moments. And though I don't put sugar in my coffee, I do put a little in my tea and it's there, and so are mom and dad.

So today when DH was pulling the plastic cap off the top of the water jug before taking it back to the store to get refilled, the jug bounced.....and  the sugar bowl went flying. Off the table and a big smash.

I heard the 'shit!!' and came running.

I think DH was prepared for a strong emotional moment. I have done that far too many times in the past. A few tears came down my cheeks and I said 'it's ok. It doesn't change the memories'.

I think he was a bit in shock. I restated that it was ok and started to clean it up.

The bowl broke perfectly in half. I mean......perfectly.

I rummaged in the drawer for the little tube of crazy glue dad left behind. I don't touch it. I do not have a good track record for using crazy glue and not getting it on my fingers.

DH glued it back together.  A tiny crack if you look hard enough.

The bowl is back in the middle of the table, ready for tea tomorrow.

I am grateful I handled it as well as I did and that tells me that I am starting to come back to me.

Hello me! It's been a long time.