We had a light like this above the
dining room table in the house I grew up in,
until, that is, a disgruntled Spanish exchange student
(accidentally) kicked a soccer ball at it, sending all
the milky globes crashing into each other, shards of
former-glass-glory raining all over the table beneath.
The Sicilian lady of the house ( my mother) set about
fuming over the unfortunate incident for years, as only
Sicilians can, which is to say she muttered under her
breath every time she switched the light on, which was
by then re-outfitted with large, store bought light bulbs,
inches smaller than the unbroken glass shades that survived
the fateful futbol kick. "Irreplaceable," she'd grumble.
"Swedish!" she'd rumiate, as if the word was holy. "Ruined,"
she'd harp. "Gorgeous," she whisper, recalling, as if
mentioning it could perhaps call the broken glass,
long ago tossed out, back together into perfect orbs.
unbroken light here