I shattered a glass today, which had housed a bouquet of flowers. I gathered my trusty dirty rag and my dustbin together, I sat down on my bed for a moment, contemplating. After I put my swelling sense of procrastination aside, I started to clean.
You have to shatter things sometimes on purpose. Although here, in this case, I knew somewhere that I undoubtedly would have shattered it, it just had to be. This even filled me with some mirth and glee, sort of like how a small baby would feel when they throw their third serving of mushy food for that day across the floor, smiling proudly.
Yes! I am human adult. A good reminder, that despite all my self claimed lofty intellectual prowess for all my giant sense of pride I make sometimes, the dumbest of mistakes. I needed, craved and longed for the glass falling, especially by the smack of my own elbow, just to have it out of the way and for the reminder, reminding me so I don't break other, more important things by mistakes. To be clear, I didn't want to actually physically cause loss by breaking the glass, but I knew I would've, if not me then, well, someone like me.
It is considered an auspicious event, the shattering of glass, as all my elders have told and foretold. I start to believe so too. I gather now my pen, my book and my laptop together, shaking off a feeling of a bad omen, like flicking a bug off a hat. With the warmth of the rising sun on my face I now sit down for a moment...
The time is 7 am, on a crispy cold January Monday Morning.
Tomorrow on January 6th, I will buy an anti-fragile glass.