Pass the Dish

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When I saw the sign I thought I had inserted my lenses inside out.

But everything else in the housewares store was sitting neatly on the shelves. I must be seeing right.

After 20-some years of marriage my floral Corelle dishes were getting lonely. All that remained were two soup bowls one salad plate and miscellaneous useless serving pieces. As much as they brought back memories of a starry-eyed kallah and intimate elaborate meals as a couple they no longer served their purpose. Actually they didn’t do much besides collecting dust and taking up precious shelf space.

They’d been through a lot those dishes. They witnessed shy newlywed smiles the mashed-banana stage and the terrible twos which caused their fellows to shatter into bits and pieces. They also overheard the “the real plate is only for Tatty go get a plastic one from the pantry” command repeatedly as disposables gradually but surely made their way into our busy lives.