I made a crooked blue bowl

Dear Delyara, My wife died four years ago. After her death, I stopped doing anything that did not have a purpose. I cooked because I needed food. I walked because the doctor told me to. I cleaned because dust gathered. My neighbor invited me to a pottery class. The first week, I left before touching the clay. The second week, I stayed. My hands were clumsy. The bowl leaned to one side. I pressed too hard and nearly collapsed the rim. The instructor said, “Let it be uneven.” No one had said that to me before. Today, the bowl came out of the kiln. Blue glaze, one thick side, a crack near the bottom. It cannot hold soup because it leaks. I brought it home anyway. I placed three oranges inside. For the first time in years, I made something unnecessary. It is imperfect and useless and mine. I keep looking at it and feeling something small return. Not happiness exactly. Interest. That is enough for now.