Broken Cup

 

    There's a fine china tea cup in my cabinet that I almost never use. It was a busy week and my sink is overflowing with dirty dishes. I have no cups left. I have no clean glasses. In fact, I have nothing to drink from unless I want to drink from a bowl which I am considering. I have little choice than to use this delicate piece of china I have taken great measures to protect. I reach up to the high shelf where it has been tucked away for years and notice my resistance. I am afraid to retrieve this beautiful cup for fear of breaking it.
     I stop to think for a moment about how strange it is to have this cup sitting in my cabinet unused, unseen and unappreciated. I have been afraid to break something important to me. I thought some more and concluded that it was ok to risk breaking the cup. In fact, what is life really without risking a few broken cups? In that moment, I threw caution to the wind and retrieved the cup. 
     Did I break the cup? Did I drink from the cup? I mean, what if I broke the cup? Would I have to crawl under the covers and refuse to come out? Ahhh, but what if the cup didn't break?