Life is like a full china cabinet. It’s like one of those old
fashioned fancy corner cupboards that fit snugly out of the way. Inside is all
the pretty china, the pieces of your life. Some of the pieces are important.
The platter, the mugs, the large plates. Other pieces don’t get used or touched
that often. The gravy bowl; the small soup and saucer set; the demitasse cup.
All the pieces are important or the set wouldn’t be complete.
In life, we hit bumps and will get shaken around. When this
happens, a couple pieces of china fall from the cabinet and crash to the floor.
Maybe the handle breaks off a teacup, or the rim of a plate chips.
I’ve had a couple storms that knocked pieces of the precious
china out of my corner cupboard. One big storm, when I was eight, sent about
half of the set splintering to the floor. Before anyone could see what I had
let happen, I quickly swept the mess under the piece of furniture.
Years passed and for the most part, I forgot about that mess.
I mean, sure, occasionally I would notice my china set was missing a medium
salad plate or a teacup, but that was rare. Mostly, I was content living my life
using half of my china. It appeared to me that everyone was content letting me,
as well.
I grow up. Things happen. I grow some more and more things
happen. Some bad, most irreverent, a little good, more bad. Over the past four
years or so, I’ve managed to dig out, dust, and put away the least damaged
pieces. I do not want to deal with the broken wreck under that china cupboard.
I do not want to look at each of
those pieces and try to fit them back together into some semblance of a life.
