Ode to a Salt Shaker Samantha Sinensky

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Your turquoise sombrero reminded me of the waves in Cancun. A small gift shop in a crowded marketplace, you sat shyly on the shelf of handmade creations next to bells and painted bowls and dreamcatchers. I knew you were meant for my dining room table when I saw your unwavering smile and thin, curly mustache. You greeted me each morning to embellish my eggs with the salt crystals you provided. I never ate alone as you kept me company, taking your place next to the water pitcher. Then I had guests and I was in a rush. I wanted to use the salt, packed so neatly in a vessel that showcased my travels. I picked you up carelessly from a high shelf and you plummeted to the floor. Each shard dispersed, merely parts of a whole. I swept up the appendages and said my final goodbyes.