I was there.

I collect souvenir glasses. I have a few from wineries or breweries I have toured, a few that I acquired (ahem) from bars or pubs, and a set of Hard Rock Cafe shot glasses that belonged to my dad. I have no real interest in the Hard Rock Cafe, or in shot glasses, but my dad thought it was neat to collect them. A few months after he died, I traveled to London and made a point to buy one to add to the collection. Keeping that going helped me feel like dad was still around, in a way.

Years ago, I went to see a good friend who lived in Gernany. We went to a little pub in the small town of Bann (not to be confused with the larger, more well known town of Bonn), and the waitress did not speak English. I spoke a small handful of German words. I managed to order a beer, and I really liked the Pilsner glass in which it was served. I wondered if she would sell it to me, even though it technically was not for sale.

"Ich mochte gern das glas kaufen, bitte," I stumbled through, pointing at the glass with a hopeful look on my face. My grammar was awkward, but she understood. She gestured to the kitchen and stepped away to consult with the owner in the back, returning a few minutes later with the verdict: "funf euro." Five euros. Done!

I carefully carried that glass back on the plane, and displayed it on a bookshelf, where it lived for years. I was touched when, at my new apartment, my dear friend who helped me unpack after a recent move, instinctively chose that piece to display in my kitchen, on top of the fridge. I liked it there. It was set apart and I saw it every day.

What I didn't realize was that every time I shut the freezer door, the refrigerator vibrated and the glass moved, just a bit.

Last night, I closed the freezer door with a firm thunk and heard the crash as the glass hit the floor. 

I had to take a moment to process what had just happened, and to accept that I would not be able to take the moment back. The glass was irreplaceable. And it was gone.

I took a deep breath and with a sigh texted a friend about what had just happened. I told her I felt silly for being upset about it, that I was trying to shake it off.

"Don't shake it off," she said. 

"It meant a lot."

And, "impermanence sucks."

She went on to say, "that is always a part of your tapestry, the glass was a reminder, but you still did that. You were there."

Where it started.

Where it lays.