I wrote a blog post about this strange silver-plated utensil I found. Decided to publish it the next day instead of right away. Good thing, because when I woke up this morning I had a quick, ten second memory of a dream. That dream is the basis for this story.
About this find:
I was off searching in the downstairs area(aka basement) of a cool thrifty place nearby when I saw, back behind the vintage mixing bowls, this strange-looking forked item. Now, things were jumbled up down there, with the row below these bowls sporting two yellowed copies of chinese folk tales, so placement did not necessarily have anything to do with the object itself.
Or did it?
My first thought was dog comb, but I ruled that out pretty quick because the handle of this thing is silver-plated and, although we all love our pets/fur babies/four-footed children, it somehow didn’t feel right. I asked upstairs but she wasn’t sure what it was, I think to cut vegetables with is what she told me, so I scooped it up for one dollar.
Now, to find out what it is.
A half hour after I bought this item, I stopped by an antique place, the kind that has lots and lots of 6×10 areas where people sell their wares. I moved through with my hands clasped behind me so no one thinks I’m stealing anything, because no one is around except one woman reading a magazine at the front entrance. Yup, that kind of place. I’m almost done walking through when I see another one of those metal-tine comb-looking things, except this one is inside a box and it has instructions.
Unfortunately, it is also under glass, so I take a quick peek at the bold print and have to lean forward to read it again because I swear I just read Cake Breaker.
Yes, it’s an actual culinary tool. WOW.
Now, my take on it, aka The Story…starting with my dream
The bride, stunning in yards of creamy white, brushes through a crowd mingling by the front entrance. This is an old colonial-style home, either hers or where the wedding reception was held. Up near the entrance is a staircase, carpeted in the style of the day with a gleaming banister with a slight curve to its burnished-brown sides.
Standing five steps up is a man. His one hand rests on the shined handrail and the other grips a rectangular package wrapped in silver wedding paper. The knuckles on the hand touching the wood turn white as the bride approaches the open front door. She is smiling and laughing and clinging to the new husband by her side as she catches sight of the man standing five steps up. She trips on nothing as her smile fades, replaced by a flicker of bare longing. The man’s face betrays nothing, but a lone twitch flicks at the corner of his upper lip.
The bride pauses a moment by the door as packets of white rice are given out to the crowd on the lawn. The diamond over the wedding band on her finger catches the sun and in that moment the man on the stair lifts the gift in his hand to her as a tear slides down her cheek.
A space opens as the crowd inside shifts by the telephone table and the man leaves the rectangular box in silver wedding paper on the table as he disappears into the crowd behind the bride.
That next morning the bride opens her wedding gifts before leaving for the airport and her future. Inside the rectangular box in silver wedding paper is a silver-plated cake breaker. The shine of the silver reflected off the overhead light brings another tear, two this time, down the bride’s cheeks. She doesn’t look for a card because she knows there will not be one. Just like she knows that there will be cake, many cakes throughout the years, sliced with the back and forth motion of a silver-plated cake breaker.
The cake breaker that broke her heart.