After all the raging tears and a tirade of words vomited out in anger, a single remnant of hope remained. Her great-grandmother’s Chinese treasure had endured the Great Quake, the Great Depression, two World Wars, and 71 years of marriage to a cantankerous bastard, and, now it had survived this great quake and this great depression. Perhaps this was a divine sign that all had not been lost between them after all these years. But how could that be possible?
Once upon a blooming youth, she would look into his eyes only to be swept off her feet, into his heart and into his bed. As in any marriage, over time the chemistry waxed and waned with the seasons of life; the bills came, the children came, and the disappointments came, all as youth faded into the beige of the walls of a two-story house with the white picket fence. The eventual apathy that grew from routine and repetition was hard to endure. However, it was when mutual contempt took residence in their hearts that a silent war began.
No longer did either strive to edify the other or offer shelter when life’s tempests came. They would rather give the other the finger than to give a helping hand. One day, the pair simply woke up to find a gauntlet, deftly stitched with broken promises and unfulfilled dreams, had been thrown. For an entire decade, their marriage had become a series of petty battles and callous calculations. A line had been drawn. Someone was going to win with the other plummeting to absolute defeat, but with both lives in absolute ruin.
Or was this the only possible outcome? The plate in her arms was still intact. Perhaps just as this piece of fine china had survived destruction, death, and a lifetime of disappointment, so could the single thread that held these two souls together…
Probably not, so she just lets go…lets go of the plate and any hope with it.
Photo provided by and story inspired by Magpie Tales.
