Last night I was up late watching a film, enjoying some red wine at the same time. Towards the end of the film and the end of the glass, the glass slipped from hand and shattered on the tile floor. Bit miffed by that, since it was one of those glasses you get to keep after you finish the Dijon mustard it once contained (useful recycling; now I need to buy more Dijon).
Today, while reflecting on last night’s events, I remembered the dark red acrylic plastic glasses we had at the chalet in l’Esterel. How they were pretty much indestructible and ideal for growing kids. How I used to drink orange juice, 7-Up, and “Snow White” cream soda from them on summer afternoons. Drink hot chocolate from them in the morning. How they were a part of my life for 40 years. They never wore out, never broke. They were always there, ready for the next beverage.
The chalet is gone, sold now, as too the red glasses. But not broken.