“Put things back where they belong!” my mother always told us growing up.

Had I “listened” to her the other night, my favorite plate would still have been one intact piece.

Unfortunately, as my luck would have it, I accidentally brushed against a stack of the yet-to-be-put-away whatchamacallits when I was cooking dinner.

Since the plate was precariously balanced on top, it fell as I watched helplessly.

“Oh, no!” I groaned as I looked at the shattered pieces right next to my feet. “My favorite plate is all broken”, I moaned.

“I told you so!” I immediately heard mother’s voice with the usual accusatory tone, eerily feeling a faint tweaking of my ear at the same time.

I nodded my head to accept the fault and then took in the reality of the accident.

In order to keep a memento of my once-favorite plate, I snapped a photo.

To some, what transpired is inconsequential in the grand scheme of things, particularly now with the pandemic going on. But, taking a step back, simple things can mean a lot to others. If anything disastrous happens to them, a significant array of emotions will be felt.

To me, that plate that I got from the Thrift Store for $0.98 was important. I had grown attached to it. Except for that moment, it had always been reliably there in the disk rack inside the sink.

My having dinner on a different plate that night was somehow not the same.