The broken vase

Once upon a time, not that too many years ago, two wonderful beings created this perfectly unspoilt vase, it was created with love and care and each curve was nurtured and the vase knew it was loved unconditionally.

The vase trustingly allowed a variety of flowers of all shapes, size and colours to be arranged lovingly in it, glowing with pride and would be sad when some of the flowers it cared for tenderly,  would wither and die, but the vase knew that this was the natural course of life and cherished each new arrangement trustingly placed in its care. Learning along the way how best to nurture these precious fragile flowers.

The vase knew that it could be trusted and one day it received the largest and what it thought was the most perfect bouquet it had ever seen and knew that this could be one of its hardest tasks and was being put to the test to ensure that this bouquet did not wither and went above and beyond in caring for these seemingly precious flowers. In focusing all its attention in keeping the flowers alive and looking healthy, the vase forgot to tend to itself and became negligent and the vase would get bumped continually with the occasional little chip appearing and tiny little cracks criss crossing its once smooth happy appearance, until one precarious day, the vase was knocked off the shelf and shattered into hundreds of pieces with fragments flying off in every direction and the flowers flung off into the wind.

The vase lay on the ground, wondering what to do next.  It only knew one thing in life and that was to care for the flowers in its care, how was it to do that now when in pieces.  It realised that in order to fulfil its purpose and recapture its strength, it would need to find these shattered pieces and put itself back together.

The vase travelled far and wide to find all its pieces and as each one was found, it carefully started to reassemble itself until one day it took a long look at itself and thought,  “Yes, I’ve done it.  I may not look like I used to and the cracks are still there, but the glue holding me together is strong” It remembered its earlier happy days and knew that it could care again.

A story about a heart by my heart.

Painting by Alfred Henry O’Keeffe

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