Thursday morning before work, I cried about the Boy. I was listening to Spotify and the song Solsbury Hill by Peter Gabriel came on and I lost it when I heard the lyrics which I never heard before even though I've heard the song dozens of times:
"Son," he said, "Grab your things I've come to take you home."
Hopefully, there will be a day when the Boy comes home. He writes us a letter once a week and we have gotten pictures. It will be interesting to see how he progresses, and how we here in Seattle progress, too.
When I was feeling blue, I put on my Maryland t-shirt and baseball hat I got last year when I dropped Claire-Adele off at college. I need to remember that she is a good place, thriving.
For my birthday, I got a broken bowl in the Japanese style of kintsugi. (This one isn't really broken, just made to look that way.) The idea of kintsugi is to take the cracks and repairs as part of the object's history. The cracks are filled with gold or brass and lacquer, making what could render the bowl useless and instead make it beautiful. And it is true. This would have been a boring, dark gray bowl, but now it is unique.
My life right now feels like one of these broken bowls, still waiting for the brass and gold to fix it up. I could give each of the cracks a name. While I appreciate the beauty, at times I wish my life had a few less blemishes.
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