I always knew this day would come, when someone I love breaks something I love.
And so it happened. And, it was totally okay.
I have looked at the breakable things that I own since having a baby boy and slowly and intentionally have let them just be stuff. Perhaps it has come with having a boy and seeing even the plush soccer ball fly across the room, unintentionally. Or maybe it has come because I grew up with two younger brothers. Or maybe it has come because I remember how distraught my mom was when accidentally her Christmas angels when sailing into the brick fireplace below and lay shattered in irreparable shards. Or maybe it came from being away from all of my "stuff" for months and not ever really missing it.
Or maybe it's just realizing that the someone is always more important than the something. Always.