Our mismatch drinking glass cupboard is the one just to the right of the sink. To the left is the cupboard with our dishes and our glasses that match. If you open the mismatch cupboard, you’ll find a few Nestle’ Quick rabbit glasses, a Mulan cup, a couple Tupperware glasses (tumblers?), a Winnie-the-Pooh cup and other anomalous drinking containers. You’ll also find a solitary glass with no mates that has been with our family for a while. The last survivor of the original set it came in that once dominated our dinner table drink-ware.
Whenever I get this glass out now I fill it with a measure of dread. Part of me is thinking, “be careful, it’s the last of its kind!” But another part of me, a very anxious part of me, is thinking, “smash it! get it over with!”
I’m a packrat by nature. I attach sentimental feelings to inanimate objects and struggle with letting things go. I’ll keep an empty envelope because ithasmynameinmymom’shandwritingontheoutsideofit andmymomwon’tbearoundtowritethatontheirsomeday you know! I have drawers and boxes full of stuff that I attach emotions to and from time to time go through them – not to toss them but to just sort them into other boxes. And to feel the feelings I’ve tagged to each thing. Occasionally I’ll pull something out that I can find absolutely no emotional memory for and I can toss it. That, I keep telling myself, is what separates me from the Hoarders.
But this glass is different. No emotional attachment really, nothing sentimental anyway, other than it being the last of its kind. It’s nearly extinct and that pushes a button in me.
I’m desperate to just smash the glass and be done with it! I want to end the suspense and get the inevitable over with. Its very existence leaves me unsettled. There will come a day that glass is gone, cracked or shattered and tossed in the bin. Why risk holding on to something that will not and cannot, stay with me?
Do you know what I’m saying?