The Pretty Blue Dish. It was a wedding gift. A glossy, French blue, ceramic serving dish with a fitted lid. I didn't use it too often. It was too dear, and I was too afraid I'd break it.
But I used it last week. My beautiful Greek salad was too lovely not to be served in the Pretty Blue Dish. The red of the chopped tomatoes, purple of the red onions, and bright green of the cucumber only enhanced the deep blue hue of the dish. It was a delicious salad and by Saturday evening it had all been eaten. The Pretty Blue Dish awaited washing on the kitchen counter near the sink.
I'm not exactly sure how it happened. The counter was crowded, full of dirty dishes. Something must have been nudged the wrong way. Maybe I tried too hard to add one more cup to the stack. But when I heard the loud crash, I knew what I'd lost. Only glossy, French blue ceramic bouncing onto a tiled kitchen floor shatters in such a piercing way.
I cried. Before I could stop myself, I slapped the counter, then covered my face. Blake rushed to the scene, the look of panic on his face painted there by the sound of the crash quickly washing to disappointment as he realized what I'd lost. Sure, it was only the lid; the rest of the dish was still safely on the counter. But the Pretty Blue Dish would never again be complete. The lid which so daintily adorned its top half was beyond repair.
Why is it that only my pretty things get broken? Why couldn't the plain, white, restaurant-style plate the lid had been stacked next to have been the item to meet its splintered fate? A drab white plate doesn't sparkle like the lid to a pretty, blue dish does.
Blake swept. I, in my bare feet, was commanded to stay where I was now sitting at the kitchen table. I considered the situation. The lid was gone, but I still had the rest of the dish - the most important half of the dish. My dish would be okay; I would be okay. It had been heavy to move and awkward to store anyway, and besides, I don't like clutter.
I'm not sure, though, if the lid to my Pretty Blue Dish can be counted as clutter.
No matter. There's nothing to be done. I stopped crying, took a deep breath. Blake finished sweeping, and I resumed my dish-washing stance, this time with one less dish to wash.
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10 comments:
Hey Lindsay, I’m so sorry that you lost your lid! As sad as it is… you still have very pretty blue eyes! Garrett has the same ones! You don’t need a pretty blue lid on the pretty blue bowl.
I’m sure you’ll get more pretty dishes as life goes on! I felt the same way when Kenna broke one of my grandmother’s china tea cups I was so excited to inherit.
I hate it when pieces like that break 'cause seriously, is the rest of the dish worth it? Most of the time it is, but it's no fun to lose part of the joy.
Great writing. Thanks for the fun times today. yay for outings! so have you read ethan fromme? your post reminded me of it. but in a very different setting, of course...
Oh how sad!
Beautifully written though.
Oh, I'm so sorry. I can imagine it was disappointing. I hope you find other pretty things to serve on. They do make it fun, no?
I'm so sorry for your loss. At least lids aren't often seen when serving things in their accompanying pretty dishes. No one will ever know that it came wrapped in Seran Wrap.
at least it was the lid and not the dish...what good is a lid without a dish, right?
Oh, I feel so sorry for you. It's always sad to lose something you love and that has special meaning. I'm glad you were able to have a good attitude about it.
oh I am so sorry about your wedding gift!
Have you considered Ebay?
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