Tuesday, November 11, 2008

Broken Glass

A week ago Ken and I opened a special bottle of wine, the last from our trip to San Francisco in 2006. The half-filled bottle was on the counter. After I cleared the table I turned around, threw open my arms, and sent the bottle flying. The neck broke as the bottle fell and wine flowed into a puddle on the floor.

On Sunday I prepared chicken to cook for dinner. I set the plate of boneless breasts on the counter, and it promptly dropped to the floor where the plate broke into a dozen shards. I salvaged the chicken. A day later I found a piece of blue ceramic under the kitchen table.

Yesterday I melted butter in the microwave to make molasses cookies. As I removed the lid from the casserole, I lost my grip. The lid landed in the sink on a wine glass. The glass, left from the night before, shattered. The Pyrex lid, thirty-one years old in September, escaped unscathed. I can replace the glass.

I feel like an awkward teenager. I can't seem to keep track of my limbs or control what they're doing. I have lost my perspective of space and where I am, literally.

Since yesterday afternoon I have used two hands when I do anything. I stop to think about where I am in relation to my surroundings. I secure everything I set down, and I have moved anything breakable back from the edge. My behavior belies my internal transition. Is this a breakthrough, or is it just broken glass?

Last night I needed a reprieve, so I sat for hours and worked on a scarf I started knitting last week. Nothing breakable there, and for safety sake I may finish it sooner rather than later.

2 comments:

Anonymous said...

In the old days I used to know I was due for my period when i started dropping things- a real deficit for a waitress! Hold on. maybe you're distracted with joy after the election!

Elaine said...

It certainly seems like the trail of broken glass is trying to tell you something. Could you ask it?