My first impulse was to side-step the entire list and choose my own utensil -- an oyster shell, or the piece of coconut hide slashed from the coconut itself with a machete to use to scoop out the meat. Or fingers dipped in a tin bowl of rice. But were any of those "me"?
Then I scanned the images to sense -- bodily -- which ones caused a throb of recognition. I passed ones I wanted for their sleek, sexy or symbolic use alone and was at once fascinated and irritated by the one that… Continue
I am spoon.
Once a simple teaspoon; sampling all that came my way.
Now, a serving spoon; providing for others, managing small tastes of the remains.
In the future, a graceful, silver demitasse; savoring only the finest.
Today we open a packet of something, pour into into our (probably chemically-induced) tea, and stir it with a plastic straw. My grandmother had set of sterling iced-tea spoons with straws in the long handle. One used the spoon to measure sugar from an elegant bowl and sipped. After use, the spoons were carefully, washed, dried and stored. I am that iced-tea spoon. Reminiscent of a lost era. High maintenance.