The Plate

I bent over to pick up the broken pieces of the plate, this was Grandma's favorite plate. She had gotten this plate from her mom, it had always occupied that same spot behind the couch. The same couch we where not allowed to sit on. It was still like new covered with a thick piece of plastic, the plastic used to be clear, now it was yellow with age Beside the couch on end tables there were cut glass bowls filled with candy, the candy was multi colored with verticle stripes, they looked like miniture pillow but without the softness. Like the couch the candies were meant for looking at, almost to much for an eight year old boy. I wanted to be a good boy so I only took a few, they looked better than they tasted. I walked to the kitchen to find some glue. I had hoped she wouldn't notice back it went to it's special spot When she got home and looked at me I cried and told her it was broken She just held me and said it was okay Grandmas are like that By Richard Lamoureux "Picking up The Broken Pieces" contest