Broken Pieces

Original Post: October 20, 2006

When I "came of age" as a young girl, my parents presented me with a gift. "This," they said, "is your heart." It was a beautiful gilded piece of china. "You must be careful with it. You must treasure it. The most important thing to know, is you MUST be careful who you give it to...not everyone will be gentle with it and guard it like they should..." They looked at me witih such intensity and such seriousness that I was certain this was an important life lesson I was learning.
I did exactly as I was told. I did not let my heart out of my sight. I began to see, as I got older, that not everyone took the lesson as seriously as I had. Girls were tossing their hearts around left and right. In retrospect, I see that these girls became adept at handling thier hearts. They could throw them in the air and catch them with ease. They could toss them in the schoolyard with boys and, I think (maybe because they were young when they started and so were shorter to the ground--or because their hands were smaller??) any fumbles or slips, were retrieved with little scuffs and minor scratches. I, on the other hand, heeded my parents advice and hid my heart away from others touch.
One day I finally relented. I gave away my heart. I thought long and hard about it...after all, it was a big decision. Unfortunately, I had not had any practice at that time in...well...the "china trade." It was not long before he let my heart slip from his hands. It landed fairly roughly and suffered a chip--he apologized and cried and begged me to forgive him...but of course, it wasn't a question. "I gave you my heart," I stared in confusion, "I don't know why you would hurt it...but it is yours...I HAVE to forgive you." And I did. Again. And Again. And Again. By the time I learned that my heart was MINE...and when I give it away, it is really on a "loan only" basis...it was in pretty rough shape. There were so many chips out of it..and a crack through the middle...but it was salvageable.
Through the years I have been reluctant to give my heart away--it is in such ugly shape--who would want it? Plus, I know it will just get broken so much more...and I have been right--I have given it away again, and it has been damaged more...some times worse than others...The last time (what I thought was the last time) I had gotten it back, it was beyond repair. It was in fragments that I had to patch together, with glue and tape...pieces were missing that I had never been able to replace, there were many chips and the beautiful guilded edges were worn beyond recognition. The important thing was that I finally had it back, for what I thought was the last time, and I built a wall around it to protect it from--well, mostly from myself--from giving it away, from letting anyone else get to it.
Of course, life does not follow the plan you intend for it---and someone got through the wall (in my defense, he REALLY had to work at it). He was gentle with my heart and didn't mind how broken and ugly it was--or even that there were pieces that were missing that I was never able to reclaim. I finally felt that sense of relief and calm that I felt when I was first given my heart in the beginning...that it was safe. That someone was taking care of it, in a way that even I hadn't been able to. But one day, I moved too quickly...I was laughing too hard and smiling too wide and I turned too quickly to try and catch the twinkle in my eye and I forgot that I was supposed to keep some kind of eye on my heart as well...and that's when it happened...I am not sure if I felt the crash first or if I heard it...but it was so loud that it echoed silence. I felt it in the hollow of my chest...an emptiness that was not there any of the other times. "Where are the pieces of my heart?" I asked. "I am supposed to collect them from you when this happens." I said through a dull shock...but I looked around and the china had just been so fragile by that point...there just seemed to be nothing left--there was hardly anything to start with--all that remained was fine china dust with hints of gold tint. I could barely sweep the remains--it was like catching the dust you see streaming through the window in the summer sunshine. I wonder how I'd begin to give my heart away again? I laugh even thinking about it...even if the desire were there--I'd go to put it into some poor man's hand and my nervous breath would blow what was left into the air like spreading dandalion seeds...there would be nothing left to give. China...you can only break it into so many pieces before it is too hard to repair or too inconsequential to matter...