Mosaic

We Are All A Group Project

Each of us is a jigsaw creation of broken glass figured together,
reflecting our favorite memories and cherished peoples’ darling
mannerisms. Dazzling with the echoes of a slice of history which
somehow create the symphony of our being.

A piece of me smells like fresh ground coffee and is topped with
decadent caramel drenched whipped cream that boasted a smiling
crown - which I collected during the morning commute mom and
I shared.

Another shard reflects my laugh ringing with the same clear bells
handed down through generations of Schneiders’ women whose
joy entered the room before their humor, their wit swift as running
rivers glimmering and never run dry.

Many of the pieces form a pixelated heart that glows with the singing
majesty of the rarest loot, and it matches the pieces that my older
cousin, uncles, and brothers had- when they handed me joysticks with
the connection not plugged in.

That piece is a sunny day and loud music playing through open
windows and smells like the nag champa dad would light before
dancing through the kitchen, harmonizing painfully off-key into
the wooden spatula microphone for the clamoring audience of
yesterdays dishes.

Some pieces I tried to fit- forcing at odd angles with hopeful belief.
And though the pictures were quite lovely aesthetically, our puzzles
weren’t meant to be. Piece by piece I intend to honor the love and
beauty and wisdom which have shaped me- I wonder in the empty
spaces, whose tables hold a fragment they’d gotten from me.