“Careful. Hold it in both hands. It’s fragile.”

“What’s ‘fragile’?”

“It can break easily.”

I took it — whatever it was, I don’t remember, only my dad’s vocabulary lesson — in both hands, afraid it would break if I held it too firmly, certain it would break if I dropped it. “Fragile,” said my mind claiming this new word. “Fragile.”

Now if I go to a thrift store I notice all the gimcracks on the shelves. Fragile treasures of the dead with stickers that say, “$2.00.”

7 thoughts on “Fragility

  1. I think it is a matter of luck. Some can pick it up and put it down and nothing happens.Then there are people (like me) that only just have to look at it, and a crack appears as if by magic hand.

  2. Oh the acquisition of new words is such an important experience! I loved this! Thank you for sharing x P.S. I have broken way too many things in charity shops and thrift stores, I tend to bump into things and when they hit the floor, so does my heart. They hold so many memories and I break them with a bump.

    • I sometimes look at something in a thrift shop (I recently looked at a little cream pitcher made in Germany) and I wonder, “How did you get here?” I live in a pretty remote part of the US and that little pitcher had to have some good stories… I’m also afraid of breaking things. Even my own things. :\

      • Ooh, the inspiration for stories you can get while walking through a thrift store is bountiful! I always ask why, especially things that are slightly quirky, like an oddly phrased sign.

    • I suspect that some of it was gifts from small children, which adds a dimension of pathos. My mom’s treasure was a very cheap china bluebird on a branch my brother gave her. My Sainted Brother ONCE gave my mom a Christmas gift and it sat on her mantel from that day forward. The same sainted brother was in charge of the estate sale in which that Holy Relic was either sold or dumped. 😦

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