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once upon a time, i had a strange egg in the house.
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i put it on the window sill, contemplating its seize. each time i passed the egg, i stroked its soft shell, which also felt a little uneven.
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i guess you could say i liked its touch.
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i'd been presented with the egg by means of a gift. someone had carefully emptied the egg out for me, and then brought it to the house. i was careful in turns, not to waste it, as in letting it drop.
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it lived with us for a good few years. until one day, i let it drop.
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i guess you could say one can't make any omelette without breaking the egg, but in this case, ... well.
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poor egg! did you keep the pieces? I hope you got lots of delicious easter eggs!
ReplyDeleteSad egg story...you'll keep your memory forever!
ReplyDeleteMaybe I'll ask my Mum if she can give you one as compensation, she definitely has enough. ;o)
So the Humpty Dumpty story a la Nadine! ;>) Delightful as always.
ReplyDeleteMy grandmother had a (empty) ostrich egg that her sister had brought her from Africa in the 20s. We were not allowed to touch it - but it became a good memory. Hope you too have a good memory of that egg, and the person who gave it to you!
ReplyDeletei am ashamed to admit i have forgotten who gave it to me! but i'm keeping the memory fond indeed.
Deleten♥
Maybe you will acquire another one. Have you ever seen an emu egg, lots of texture there.
ReplyDeleteEgg's textures are incredible! And at least you do have a great and fond memory of that one egg, so it's like having it anyways.
ReplyDeleteYou had me on the edge of my seat with your story. I thought you were going to end it with a funny twist that the egg hatched all on its own. I like the symbolic of eggs. :) xo
ReplyDelete:) Love your little story.
ReplyDeleteMy grandmother used to make delightful ornaments out of blown eggs. She emptied them, dried them out, cut out an oval "window," painted them, and then created a scene inside, with miniature figurines and bits of cloth. They were quite lovely as Christmas tree ornaments. I tried to follow in her footsteps, but was never patient enough, and somehow my eggs always cracked when I was trying to blow the thick yoke through that tiny needle-hole.
ReplyDeleteOn another, similar note - I broke my favorite tea mug this morning. Knocked it off the side-table accidentally with my arm, and it shattered, egg-like, on the tile floor :(
Ahh - poor little egg! I'm sure it had a full and happy life on your windowsill though!
ReplyDeleteWhat a great egg story! I don't think I would have managed to keep it for years before dropping it though. :)
ReplyDeletehope you have had other omelettes then :)
ReplyDeleteI hope you found another egg to take its place?!
ReplyDeleteI once had an ostrich egg and had it for a long time. Then I had children and they broke it! I would still choose my children over the egg though.
ReplyDeleteHumpty Dumpty story! ;))
ReplyDeleteWell, it's time to find a replacement :)
ReplyDeletein some old churches they have the habit to have the egg of an ostrich!
ReplyDeleteit's there for new live!
your egg reminds me of that.
i had a koptisch Orthodox Egypt friend [ i hope you write it like that...the koptisch part..!] and he explained me why the egg was in his church!
ps, no CV for me this week...egg are all gone by now! ;-)
ReplyDeleteBeautiful story. I like the fact that you don't remember who gave it to you. Renders it even more mysterious...
ReplyDeleteNicki
I like your egg. The egg I have been carrying around, I am ready to let crack. I wasn't ready until last night. Even found myself crying over wanting to carry it forever and never let it go. I like that I was ready last night to let mine fall and read today the post of yours. Kismet :)
ReplyDeleteoh sista.
Deleteready is the thing.
perhaps, as we speak?
n♥