Monday, October 3, 2011


As soon as I picked it up, it felt wrong.

I should have just set it back down. But my brain had already fired the command to move forward and inertia held everything to that specific groove. Almost like it was laid out ahead of time. Like this was meant to be.

When the bottom of it grazed the top of the kitchen chair, the soft clunk of contact whispered gonner up my arm and into my ear. I had time to imagine the million pieces before it actually shattered. And then it was at my feet. In about seventeen pieces, not a million. But certainly beyond repair.

I mopped up the dregs of my drink and put the pieces of the mug in a paper bag. In the trash. Later, I discovered the bottom portion, the entire base of the cup, shorn artfully along a curved fault line. I put it on the counter. It could almost hold water. Never mind the fact that it would slice your lip wide open. It sat there for a couple days before I finally threw it away.

That mug was my favorite.

An old friend.

Maybe I considered it to be lucky. It started most of my days {filled with coffee. and a splash of milk} And I made it to the end of all of them. If that's not luck I don't know what is.

But now it's gone. And hey, I'm still here. Good thing I never put much stock in lucky charms.

But that curved fault line is lodged in my mind's eye. I see it in myself sometimes, in some places. Threatening. How easily we can break. 

So maybe it was something after all. It left an imprint, anyway.


I joined up with NaBloWriMo again this year {write a post. every day. in october}. Today's prompt was about lucky objects. I guess I don't have one.