Healing Fractures

Pieces lay
scattered in anger
across the breakfast room floor

The bowl and
pair of candlesticks
had been an anniversary gift
from my grandfather to
my grandmother – for me, only
images in photographs and stories

In some small way
being their conservator enabled me
to physically connect with them

However – when
the candlestick hit the wall
it wasn’t the only thing that fractured

Thirty years (and
several houses) later, the
pieces still lay gathered in a bag
now, a testament to who knows what

My grandchildren
place toys on the kitchen
counter: broken. please fix, nana
no explanations. no questions asked.
the latest casualties, a crab and
a small wooden church missing its spire

The children
possess a deeply held belief –
glue can fix anything

Onto a towel
laid across the counter
I emptied the bag (why now), fit
pieces, waited for glue to set
slowly the candlestick
took shape – but what about the rest?

While clay might
fill its remaining voids –
like precious museum artifacts
my husband had never apologized
nothing now either, except
to inquire about the
clay test on an old coffee mug –
the chasm was that deep

Yet, repairing
the candlestick released
whatever anger, pain and sense of
loss that remained –
a reminder that old wounds could heal.

Set free, I
could see the anniversary gift expand
with a new story – hopefully one
future generations would tell with humor.