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The crimson plate

I was the youngest among my siblings. So I was the apple of everyone’s eye. Everything I used, my dresses, my room, my furniture, every single thing was different and best that my family could find. I used to get extra special care from everyone. To my Dad, I was his princess.

Dad went shopping one day, returned home and gave me a flat packet to open. I was curious, it might be a present.

It was a plate with crimson border, and green floral design all over it. “Ugh”- it was a plate for granny. I was not going to place my food on that thing. Daddy had a knack for the color red, so he tried to convince me to take the plate. He really liked that plate, I can realize now. But a teen like me with that crimson plate? What if my friends come for dinner and see me eating on that? It’s going to be a shame.

I was not by any means convinced to take it. So Dad promised me to get a new one, and as that plate can not be thrown to the garbage bin (which I would very like to do), and mom did not want any more chaos in the house, Dad agreed to take the plate for himself, and the next day mom bought me a new one with geometrical shapes. I knew Dad was hurt, but I did not want to end up with a boring plate like that.

My Dad died four and a half years ago in cancer. After the death of my Dad, Mom carefully preserved everything that belonged to Daddy. His clothes, phone, work stuff, even the hair brush was stored neatly in a cabinet. There were so many times I have opened that cabinet and touched his stuff. I felt like Daddy is touching me. None will understand this unless he had lost a family member. Thus one day I found the crimson plate inside that cabinet.

The plate that I desperately rejected one day, now I use it every day. Not that I only eat on that plate, I hold it with such gentle hand as if it were a newborn baby. I move my palm over it, and feel like daddy has just put my hand into his.

The plate has become old and shabby; the crimson color has faded into dirty brown. Yet I care for it than any other possession of mine.

I wish I had not hurt my father that day.

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Posted on October 11th, 2015 by Anonymous


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