Got Dish'd
Lying on the floor broken, I remembered all the happy days that had sped by.
When I was carried over the threshold and brought into the house, everyone was so excited.
When I was awoken in the morning by the smell of delicious breakfast he was cooking, I couldn’t wait to serve it.
In the evening, I would sit by the window and cool the apple pie.
Those long nights when he would run his hands over every inch of me as I skinny dipped in the water.
Those long, scalding hot showers that washed away all the grease and grime.
And the long talks I would have with friends late at night.
While I tried to do my best in the kitchen, my beauty slowly faded away. What was once excitement turned into a meaningless daily routine. I would still serve with all my heart, but eyes had stopped appreciating me.
Beauty lies in the eyes of the beholder, they said. Never so true!
All of that led to today, when I couldn’t take any more and slipped from the kitchen counter onto the floor. My ceramic body broke into a million tiny pieces. Each piece missing the other, like the very incompleteness I had felt in my heart.
And that is how I completed my life — in pieces, on a cold kitchen floor, as a Plate.