Although it occurred weeks ago, circumstances arose such that I was reminded this evening of the Mystery of the Shattered Glass.
It was still cold, but the heat was on in the house, and I admit to having enjoyed a glass of Fess Parker Pinot Noir after dinner. We were downstairs in the living room, watching television and talking about the baby. He started jumping in her belly, so I took my now empty glass and the plate that held the assortment of fruits and cheeses the Missus likes to eat while we watch television and put them in the kitchen. The dishes went in the sink, the remaining food was placed into bags and returned to the refrigerator, and the wine glass I left on the middle of the kitchen table, away from everything else. I went back in the living room to rest my hand on my future son and to talk about all the things two people expecting a third will talk about.
About an hour later the first yawns escaped her lips, and we decided to go to bed. As we climbed the stairs we heard the tinkling of glass.
"Dunno. Be right back."
I ran downstairs into the kitchen. The glass was standing in the middle of the kitchen table, its, bowl now in fragments. I looked around. We had no pets, no windows were open, no reasons readily apparent to point towards the cause of the glass's untimely demise. I asked my wife to come down and take a look. She gazed for the briefest of moments and said, "Weird. Come back to bed."
"Sometimes weird things happen. You think about it too much, you'll just get frustrated."
"I'm frustrated now. I wanna know what happened to it."
"See what I mean? Come back to bed and rub the baby."
Sometimes it's best not to question the things that seemingly occur with no reason. Sometimes those are the things that wind up being the most important in life.
I seriously doubt, however, that this applies to the Mystery of the Shattered Glass.