Little Cracked Dish
A little dish sits on the counter in my kitchen. Three large cracks separate its bright colors and the dried hot glue used to repair the cracks pushes the edges up into an uneven circle around the top.
It's one of my favorite things.
One of my dearest friends sent this to me for the holidays. Despite the package being marked "fragile", the dish was in pieces when I opened it.
I imagined her picking out the piece weeks before. Karen is thoughtful. She is not the type to make spur of the moment purchases, especially when it comes to gifts. She considers the recipients and their stories. We all have stories. I know that when she saw this dish, she thought it the perfect little gift for my story.
So I gathered the broken pieces and fit them back together.
Firing up the hot glue gun, I meticulously drew the glue onto each crack, holding the pieces together until the glue dried. Little by little, the dish came together again.
It is not perfect. It is not like it was before.
I often run my fingers over the cracks when I need to remind myself of the beauty in imperfection. That just like the glue that holds the pieces together, there is strength in growth.
Sometimes pieces need to fall apart in order to be put back together the right way.
The Japanese have a concept of wabi-sabi, where authenticity is valued more than perfection. Beauty is in the wear, the aging, and the quirks that make objects unique.
This dish is my wabi-sabi, and it's my reminder of how beautiful life is, cracks and all.