Everything is Breaking

I came home to find
my favorite mug in a broken pile
of ceramic by the broom
in the corner of the kitchen.

This is a mug with history:
Dr. V. simply gave it to me one evening
when I complimented her on it.
She washed out the coffeee and handed it to me.
I loved her; and I hear she is ill . . .

perhaps I can use this incident to
reconnect . . .