I’ve been moving slowly through my days since the surgery, trying to adjust to this new pace my body insists on. Healing feels different this time. Everything is quieter, and I’m noticing things I used to rush past. Today, it wasn’t my stitches or the soreness that caught me off guard — it was a plate. One of my mom’s plates.
It’s part of a set she left behind, and I’ve used it every day for years. I’ve always been careful with my things, but this set has a different weight to it. I’ve kept it close since she passed, back when I was twenty‑three and still trying to understand what loss really meant. These plates have moved with me through every place I’ve lived. I treat them gently, not because they’re fancy, but because they’re hers.
This afternoon, I noticed a chip on the edge of one of them. Small, but sharp enough to stop me. I don’t know when it happened. Maybe the cleaners bumped it. Maybe it happened days ago and I only saw it now because I’m finally slowing down enough to see the little things. Either way, it hit me harder than I expected.
It’s strange how something so ordinary can open up a whole feeling. I just stood there holding it, trying to understand why it made me so sad. It wasn’t just the plate. It was everything around it — the years I’ve carried it, the memories tied to it, the way grief shifts but never disappears. Part of me felt like I failed to protect it, even though I know that’s not really fair.
I don’t know what to do with it. Throwing it away feels wrong. Replacing it isn’t possible. Fixing it wouldn’t erase the chip. Maybe the only thing left is to keep it, just as it is. Maybe that’s what this season of my life is teaching me — that things can break and still be loved. That they can still matter, even when they’re not perfect anymore.
And maybe that includes me, too.
All photos were taken by me with my iPhone.
I hope to see you again soon!
Hugs and Kisses 🥰🌺🤙!!!!
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