Shattered Illusions

It's not the end of the world. Or our marriage. Or anything really. It was just a champagne flute.

We don't have many nice things. Never have, and most likely never will. Or not for a very long time. Like long enough for klutzy, curious children to have moved on to trashing their own belongings in their own abodes.

But this one kind of shattered my heart (along with its *pretty expensive* glass).

Brad and I toasted our marriage and each other for the first time as man and wife (and now that I mention it, the only time we've ever toasted anything) with these flutes. We're not much for symbolism, or romanticism, or tradition, or anything super gushy. But, when I saw the broken flute lying on the ground in a shattered heap, I couldn't hold back the flood gates. I'm not even sure why.

I think its partly, because things feel so chaotic now. I worry that I'm not documenting enough, keeping track of enough, holding onto enough...

And then a very special memento from our wedding day, a day that the memories are getting a little fuzzier every day, is broken in what was a very typical 2 year old child related accident. And I lost it a little. I can't find the wedding video, and my dress is hanging in an unknown closet somewhere, and I think my garter is in a box somewhere in the basement. Nothing has order, and that's partly (maybe mostly) my fault, but I feel like now more so than ever, everything is spinning out of control and I have no control over any of it. Everything feels half ass, half hearted, half done.

And that beautiful champagne flute was a casualty of our very typical life. It's partner is still in the same cabinet, and will very likely someday fall to the same fate. It probably doesn't matter. I'd like to have things to pass down someday, but now it almost feels like it's not worth holding on to. One champagne flute. Another reminder that many occurrences in my life are a series of incomplete, broken mementos.