Shattered

Life was in slow motion as the vase slipped from my hands and slid through the air to the floor. That sensation of time suspension felt awkwardly familiar, but I couldn't place it just then. A thousand thoughts were running through my mind in that instant, and yet I could give attention to none of them in particular.

My disappointment overshadowed all the work I had accomplished so far today. Glass and cement don't mix. Neither do old age and moving. I felt those burning, stinging tears rise up to singe my eyeballs. Immediately I went to Grace for comfort... and answers.

My grief over the vase was misplaced and exaggerated. I had had it three days and had not even had a chance to become attached to it. It wasn't a gift unless you count the fact that I bought it for myself. In reality, I didn't even like it. But there was so much blue in the new apartment and I wanted something to match it. What disturbed me was that the grief wasn't matching the loss.

I sat at the window. Yesterday's inspiration of flowers adorning the sill was gone. The sky suited my mood, overcast and grey. Leftover leaves from the fall swirled in the wind. "Help me, Grace," I thought. "Why am I so upset over this vase?" And then I sat and closed my eyes and just listened. It wasn't long.

"That vase is a metaphor for life," she began. "Life is fragile. At any moment it can slip through your hands and shatter. No one knows their number of days here. That's why it's important to choose wisely, to laugh with all the energy you can muster, and to love as if tomorrow may never come. It may not. So LIVE your life, don't merely exist within its boundaries."

And then she fell silent and suddenly I felt the sun warm my face. You know, God, I needed a friend, and there she was. Thank you.