She came to see me. Her smile was familiar, but something was different. Missing.
She was clutching something wrapped in fabric resembling a quilt.
She leaned forward and gently placed it in front of me. As I began unfolding the edges, I saw the broken pieces. Some were so damaged I barely recognized what I was looking at.
I sighed. Who would do this? I glanced across at her, but she wasn’t looking at me. She was gazing down at the shards. Her eyes glistened, but she remained silent.
After a moment, she raised her head and asked the question. Was it fixable?
I spread the collection out to assess the damage. I turned a few pieces over to get a better look. There was evidence that this had been broken before. Had it been dropped? Thrown? Upon further inspection, I spied a set of fingerprints. They would be hard to identify. But that didn’t matter. She knew who had done this. That was not the reason for her visit. I smiled as I touched one of the largest recognizable pieces. Forgiveness. We could start with that.
Some of the smaller bits were harder to identify. Hope was nearly lost. Self-worth was shattered. Faith had been destroyed. And there were bits that clearly didn’t belong. Maybe they had been swept up by accident when she was collecting it. I recognized them as well. Insecurities. The same person who had dropped it had left those behind.
Yes, yes. It was fixable. But it wouldn’t be the same. I could tell she already knew that. Luckily, I had more hope to give her. I attached that to the forgiveness, and began to assemble the remaining pieces. I carefully picked out all of the insecurities, and added some laughter to hold the rest together.
When it was complete, I swept the fine particles of memories into my hand. I paused before tipping them into the trash. I waited for her to nod. Instead, she reached over and took my hand, pouring them onto the finished piece like glitter. What was once a factory-perfect heart now resembled a piece of art. Unique and beautiful.
As she carefully wrapped it up to head out, I reminded her that it was still fragile. The smile I remembered crept back over her face. “That’s okay,” she assured me, and then reminded me of the one thing she knew to be true about the heart, “love regenerates.”