We Had Twelve Glasses

I was drinking out of a glass this morning that has an imperfection on the bottom and it is a familiar, comforting thing to see that imperfection on the bottom of the glass whenever I drink out of it. I know that glass intimately. It has been part of our family for almost five years.

I know we had twelve glasses. I counted them. I wanted to have as many glasses as we had plates. There were twelve. I did dishes yesterday and cleaned two glasses. Somehow there were still only four clean glasses in the cupboard. Two were being used.

If two were being used and four were in the cupboard that means we only have six glasses. Where did the other six go? Are they hiding? Did they go on vacation? Did they feel unloved and just leave?

It is a sad thing when glasses that are like family begin disappearing for no apparent reason, and nobody even notices the loss. I know we've broken a few...but SIX? No, impossible. I would remember that, wouldn't I? I'm afraid I am a terrible glass-mother. I don't remember when our numbers were cut in half. I haven't properly grieved the broken shards of our family.

I picked up the glass with the imperfection and looked through it to the bottom and said, "You, at least, will not be forgotten".

On a lighter note, the dirt came yesterday! I got out there this morning and played in it. I planted 45 Parade (red) tulips and 50 assorted daffodils. Luke went out with me too and fell asleep in his car seat. His toque got all twisted up. Yesterday he fell asleep with his toys twice. Normally he gets grouchy and I put him in his crib, he cries for a bit and then goes to sleep. Yesterday he just checked out in the middle of playing. Crazy kid. I think he was depressed about the missing glasses.