Thursday, May 29, 2014

The Saddest Story Ever Told!

  Gather round and be prepared to be horrified and shocked. It has been a month, but the shock remains. I know that in order to move on I have to share this and heal.

  The sharp crashing sound is not one that I would normally expect to hear in my kitchen. My sobs were even less expected. It happened a month ago. It occurred so quickly and given my advancing years and loss of reaction time, it was inevitable. My first thought was to call 911. My second was to dive on all fours to the tile in the kitchen and start lapping it up, like a dog just brought into the house from a 30 minute run. Neither was a good choice!

  I stood frozen as if Elsa had laid her icy fingers on my wrist. The fluid spread out across the floor as my hope to save it diminished. The scene parades across my mind. It was only 4 months ago that we brought you into our house. We, mostly I, had enjoyed your company at first, but then you were banished to the pantry, to await the occasional cup of coffee. You were mostly forgotten and now I look back with shame, on your treatment.

  Sadly I realized something had to be done. I gathered the trash can and paper towels and started the morbid act of cleaning the liquid goo from the floor. Glass was mixed within your precious nectar. A total loss. After it was all cleaned and the mop had been run over it several times, I noticed that sweet fragrance lingered. I had to take the trash bag and get it into the garage. It was over.

  My bottle of Bailey's Irish Cream. The one we had bought at Christmas was gone. It was half full, not half empty. I want to be positive. There were so many flasks to fill. So many coffees to flavor. So many glasses to consume, and it was gone. I had knocked an extra large jar, thankfully plastic, of peanut butter off of the shelf and as it hit the Baileys the bottle split in half. I try not to curse the Gods and hope that the Baileys soaked paper towels and broken shards of glass found a good home, at the land fill. I pray this is so. In stead of flowers I ask that each one of you, after this is read, to hoist a glass of your favorite libation and remember that brief shining bottle that met its end too soon.