This is a new very old story. One that just keeps getting longer as a once treasured heirloom becomes beautiful sad pieces in a plastic bag.
On Thanksgiving when I was a baby our house caught on fire while we were away visiting grandparents. The fire destroyed the whole back half of the house. If we had been home others might have been woken by the smoke but there was a good chance I would not have survived because the fire started in the kitchen light fixture directly below the baby's room. Years ago on Thanksgiving my mom told this story and gave me these glasses that survived the fire. So I’ve always been grateful for these vintage rose colored water glasses - a lovely reminder that I have been very lucky to hangout on this planet for so long.
But one very strange morning last spring I came downstairs to the sound of breaking glass. I found my beautiful now shattered glasses on the floor under the high shelf they were placed on to be safe, and to capture the morning light. No clue what had caused this until walking away I heard the sound of plants, stones, and candles being knocked off the kitchen windowsill into the sink. And saw tucked into whatever he could find was a big snake! We’ve lived here for decades and have never even seen a snake close to the house. We built this house tight, and no creatures get in or out unless we chose it. So needless to say, the snake was a total surprise. Captured with a rake and thrown out the back door, thankfully we’ve never seen him since. It all happened in minutes - and just left me with a heavy heart, and a bag of broken glass.
So, for me the fragile beautiful glass is still a reminder: fragility is the thin edge we all dance on; surviving allows our stories to be retold again and again; and the rose colored glass still captures beautiful light, just accomplishes it in a new way. This perspective, that we can let go while still embracing, is the short story I hope to carry with me now.