Through the Debris

Time.
Thought I’d make friends with time.
Thought we’d be flying.
Maybe not this time.
- Tori Amos, “Baker Baker”

Have you ever dropped a plate?  Or a porcelain figurine?  Or a piece of pottery?  It breaks into pieces.  If you can manage to find all of the pieces you can attempt to glue it back together.  You may choose to use rubber cement, or Gorilla glue, or good old Elmer’s school glue.  And you can do a pretty good job.  If you’re careful and take your time, you can fit every piece back into place.  It looks as good as it did before if you don’t look too closely to see the cracks.

But maybe a week later while dusting you jostle it a bit.  Knock into it by accident.  And where as before it wouldn’t have been enough to damage it, because the structural integrity has already been compromised, it breaks.  All over again.  You can find all of the pieces.  Perhaps not all of the pieces have even broken off.  But you wonder if it is really worth repairing again.

That’s how it is when your heart is broken — really broken.  You can pick up the pieces.  You look pretty good from the outside, especially since most people don’t look closely enough to see the cracks.  You think you’re pretty good on the inside too.  You’re proud of yourself for fixing and for being fixed.  Then your heart is jostled.  In a harsh way or a subtle way.  And it falls apart all over again.  And you’re faced with repairing it yet again and wondering if it’s worth it.