The teapot had always been in my life. It was a great loss. I couldn’t even speak to him about it yet. It wasn’t that I was angry with him. Loss is just…loss. I could still see the bright green, ceramic teapot sitting on my grandmother’s stove. I could see her pouring out the afternoon tea. Feel the steam on my young face.
It didn’t matter whether or not he’d been careless. I just needed to look at it for a moment trying to imagine how it could be repaired. He would have my forgiveness soon, but first the loss. What would my mother say if she saw it lying here in pieces? That it didn’t matter? That Grannie didn’t really like this teapot that much anyway? That accidents happen? Probably.
“Come help me clean this up, ok?”
He didn’t look at me. I could tell he was trying to hide his reddened cheeks and teary eyes from me.
As we collected the broken pieces, I put my hand on his shoulder and smiled his face up to mine.
“Hey, accidents happen. Don’t take it so hard.”
In my own voice, I could hear my mother’s and her mother’s. It was ok.