The other day I was washing dishes and setting them into scalding hot rinsewater in the second sink. I turned away to say something to Scott before he left the house, and heard a snap.
It was this heavy glass ashtray that Mom and Dad had been given as a wedding gift 57 years ago.
Oh no! What to do . . . should I try to repair it with Crazy Glue? Or should I set the two pieces out in the flowerbed as a shelter for a frog?
I think it's going out to the flowerbed. After all, as Mom told me once, "You can't keep everything forever."
And ain't that the truth. Not things, not relationships, not people, not places, not anything. We'll be forced to let go of them all eventually, so maybe a little advance practice in relatively painless ways isn't a bad thing.