Breaking Plates

Yesterday afternoon I had a few small sake cups fall and break and this morning one of my favorite plates broke. I started updating my twitter account with the new happenings and realized that it was little more philosophical than broken glass.

In my family when you are 18 (male) or getting married(female) it is said that the father breaks that child’s plate. Meaning that he is no longer responsible for taking care of you. You are a man (or have a husband) and can provide for .

After praying for months, talking it over with friends and coming to a really hard decision, I broke the plate of a friend. It was one of my favorite plates to use, although not something antique or that held many memories. It just held a lot of sloppy food very well.

Ha! Well the plate is now a symbol of that relationship. This wasn’t a friend of many years, or did we have many good times together. Its just a friend that held a place in my life that I enjoyed on occasion.

Some plates are wonderful and hold memories of birthdays and holidays, and even have little chips around the edges where something went wrong. There’s also a stamp on the underside showing what they are made of and giving you the details of things about the company and dates and such.

This plate was chipped around the edges. One rather large chip was missing, and I’m not sure why. There was a hairline fracture running through the plate but something was holding it together for what reason I don’t know. I still used it and took care of it even more gently than I had ever before. Why? Because I cared about it. I would hand wash it, so that the plate would stay together. On the back were no markings. I had no idea of the life that my plate had lead before. I really don’t even remember where I got this plate.

There are so many similarities between this plate and this friend. No matter how I coddled our relationship, it was still chipped and fractured. I don’t know what held it together after these years of friendship. Oh when did we meet? I don’t remember? How did we meet? The circumstances are not important right? How about their family? I’ve learned a few things, but not many. The cracks and chips in their life? I know not how they got there, but I see them, I feel them.

When a friendship is abused to a certain point nothing will keep it from breaking.

Then comes the cat pouncing on the plate.

The plate came crashing down and broke into a million pieces. I swept up the pieces and threw them out with the garbage. I miss my plate, but now there are no worries of the fractures and chips getting worse than before.

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