Below is a short stream of consciousness writing exercise inspired by this post:4566722607_8cc8bf8bf8_o

Looking down at the sidewalk tears welled up in my eyes. Brown glass surrounded our feet. What had once been a glass brownie dish was now in so many pieces all the kings men would have been saddened. The high point was only that the brownies had been shared with family and enjoyed by all. But my dish! I looked up at my husband, his eyes were wide with embarrassment. “I’m sorry! It slipped.” He caught sight of my tears, just beginning to spill over. “You’re not cut are you? Are you ok?” Bending down to look at my shins and feet to make sure I was uninjured.  He stood back up very confused. He tilted his head. “It won’t be hard to clean up?” He couldn’t place the reason for the tears.

The glass dish was just a regular dish you could get any where. In fact we have since replaced it with three more even better Pyrex dishes that come complete with lids! But I had had that dish for years. My mother had made brownies in that dish. More times than I could remember. I had “borrowed” the dish when I moved out. Every batch of brownies I had ever made on my own had been made in that glass dish. Brownies for parties, for gifts, just because. No matter what the reason they were cooked in that glass pan. I’d dropped it myself many a time. It was my old faithful.

And now old faithful was sparkling up from the concrete in tiny pieces. Completely shattered I cried not for the glass pan but for the memories that it invoked.