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I had a glass vase and it was perfect. It held beauty of all

GlassVase2017's picture

I wrote this 2 days after finding out about the affair I hope it helps somebody:
Glass Vase
I had a glass vase and it was perfect. It held beauty of all colors, shapes, and sizes. My vase was knocked over and it broke in several peices. “Oh no, this can’t be” I thought. I retrieved the large shardes of glass and evaluated the situation. “It’s okay, I think I can fix this.” I got out glue and went to work repairing my precious item. It was a success and my vase was practically good as new. Buttercup’s were placed in my vase. Later in life my vase was knocked off the table and onto the floor. It broke into many peices this time, but I could still make out the shape of the vase. “Oh no, this is going to be tricky...but I think I can still fix it.” I gathered the many pieces and and my glue and put the vase back together. It took longer than last time, and it was much harder work. This time you could tell it has been broken before. Magnolia’s were placed in my vase. Time had passed again when one day my vase was tossed through the air. It hit the tables edge breaking into peices then landed on the floor smashing into even smaller parts. I gasped. “Oh no, how will I ever fix this?” It didn’t resemble a vase at all. Anyone walking passed could mistake it for a broken cup or plate or bowl. But, it wasn’t a bowl. It’s a vase. I knew that. I debated on weather it was worth it to try to fix my vase once again. I decided it was. It took long hours and help from other people. I had to use a magnifying glass to see the small parts. The vase fixed once more. Noticeably broken. Noticeably repaired. Fragile. Sprigs of Honeysuckle were placed in my vase. I hoped my vase was safe from further damage. But yet again, it picked up and thrown into a wall. It shattered into a million peices. It was completely unrecognizable. Even the glass smith deemed it irrepairable. I mourned my vase. Once capable of housing the most elegant and beautiful flowers, reduced to grains of sand. I got a broom and swept the shards and dust into a pile and collected it into a box. I was still my vase. I still wanted it. Though it was unusable. Maybe one day I’ll find a way to fix it. Maybe the glass smith will have a new technology. It was worth hanging onto to see. I put my box up on a shelf, making a silent promise. “If this vase ever gets fixed again, I will place Sunflowers in it.”

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CKBlossom's picture
Nov 14, 2017

This is so beautiful!


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