The Green Vase my mother busted the lip of the squat, Limoges vase beheaded the ivory figurine splintered the pink Italian terrine. But some how the translucent green glass of this vase lives unscratched— its mouth and foot blazoned in gold, a prism for sunlight, so sheer in tint that the water within seems to float naked in the air. I don’t know how it bears the weight of daffodils it barely exists. Odd that its fragility ensured survival Made visible its need for care. This truth penetrated my mother she felt its value and used soft hands, but she mistook my heart for a stone hardened so she broke it. Half heart whole vase memes of childhood
Julie Robin Solomon is a former English Professor who lives in Baltimore, MD. She left her tenured position at age 50 to pursue a career as a psychiatric nurse practitioner. She now engages in medication management, therapy, and writing poetry and prose in her effort to connect to others, disperse kindness, and pursue continuous self-invention.
Grand Little Things 