With very little effort, the impact of my hammer instantly transforms a pane of glass into hundreds of sharply edged pieces. Staring at the shards, I wonder how anything good can come of such chaos. Reaching into the mayhem, I select a piece beautifully shaped and nearly perfect in its thickness. Turning it in my hand, I notice that the width of each curve remains constant from one end to the other. It is exactly what I need. I am careful as I set it down and look for another. It is then I remember I should be wearing gloves. My eyes quickly scan the shelves and that is when I see them.
I thought I had packed everything. How could I have missed them? Understandable considering what I’ve been through: the accident and funeral all contributing to my absent mindedness as I spent the following days in a despondent driven stupor. Unable to deal with his loss, I had gone through the house and systematically eliminated every sign of his presence. Normally detail oriented and thorough, I thought I had gotten every little piece that reminded me that he had once existed.
Picking them up, I noticed the striated lines running across the palms. Slowly I run my fingers across their raised edges, remembering how they got there. Years of handling freshly shattered glass had left their mark on the leather. A strong memory overwhelms me, as I think of his hands and the effect they had on me when they massaged away the tension in my shoulders or ran along my back in the early morning hours, gently telling me he was awake and wanted to share the dawn.
Suddenly the room is bathed in a rainbow of color. Looking behind me, I gaze upon a wonder that has not appeared since he was buried. After days of gloomy weather, the sun has finally reappeared from behind dark clouds. Shining through a stained glass window, it highlights every pane, casting the workshop in a glow of shades and hues that now animate a once lifeless room.
A glinting catches my attention – the pieces I had broken earlier. They are to be joined to the window we had started before he was killed. Staring at them, I think of the many ways that my life has been broken and mended, each section placed carefully among the others until a mosaic emerged. Although never to be whole again, I know that what has been created is as beautiful as it once was, even though it is merely held together with the solder of hope.
Putting on his oversized gloves, I reach out to take a shard that matches the one found earlier. Placing it amongst the others, I know I have almost finished what we started. The healing is nearly complete; as yet another part is fused into position. Once welded firm, I know that life will go on and continue to reflect the multicolored prisms of experience that have made me who I am. Death may have taken my love, but his memory has given me back my life, and this window that lays before me will accept the suns gift of light and once again shine beauty into the dullness of my heart.
© 2008 J.C. Montgomery
A Life's Mosaic
A short story about healing.
Summayyah Sadi..., 2 months ago
This is so beautiful, so real it creates an instant ache in my heart…to love so deeply and yet have the ability and gift of depth and healing….fiction (?) or not this is healing for someone out there seeking the ‘gift of light’ into the “dullness of their heart’! Totally love this jc…
Outdoors2, 2 months ago
Beautiful words…JC
jcmontgomery, 2 months ago
It is fiction I promise. Just something that popped into my head after seeing a picture of broken glass. I must be seriously weird, for who would have come up with the above from looking at a photograph of a broken window.
This piece was my attempt, or maybe I should use the word practice, in using more descriptive language, prose if you will, to create a tone and develop a scene in a way to really get the reader to see and feel what is going on.
I am so glad you like it. After I finished it, I felt like the ‘old me’ again. LOL
jcmontgomery in reply to Outdoors2’s comment, 2 months ago
I always enjoy your compliments as I know they are genuinely given. Thank you.
Outdoors2, 2 months ago
You and I know, there is so much more that could be said, But sometimes less is enough…;)
This just has a wonderful flow to it…
Damian, 2 months ago
Wonderful transition from the darkness into hope. Well written :)
Bradley Heden, 2 months ago
Generally I thought the prolificity of your work was amazing; that anyone can put out some much work virtually every few days is hard but believe; however, the metaphorlogical attributes of this prose is hard to beat. Forming stained glass as a analogy of rebuilding ones life? Very good. If I were to make a suggestion for improvement, which I cannot, it might be to have her prick the tip of one finger slightly, a tiny vermillion dot to symbolize that any act of rebirth or contrition has its inevitable price and always leaves its mark upon us.
incaalpaca, 2 months ago
this piece shows the depth of your perceptive abilities and how alert you are to possibilities being unafraid to explore them and following up with a beautiful execution that is masterful, short and precise. JCM this is beautiful. Dia Dhuit
jcmontgomery in reply to Damian’s comment, 2 months ago
Thanks Damian. Sometimes that is the hardest part, the transitioning, because sometimes, in real life, that doesn’t happen. But I wanted to reflect that it can, and does, and yes…there is hope.
jcmontgomery in reply to Bradley Heden’s comment, 2 months ago
I thought about something like that as she was so wrapped up in her grief, she forgot to put on her own gloves. But I wanted him to be there to help her in the process of taking what was broken and helping her to mend it, and the only thing that as left were his gloves. Just as he always tried to be there for her, to help, to guide, and to protect, he is there still as represented by those gloves which bear the marks from the damage caused by handling those things which could cause so much pain.
I guess, metaphorically speaking, they remind her of what you suggest, that creation and/or re-creation, does leave its mark.
Hmmm….I like what you have said though. I think that is something you should consider as a short story for yourself to work on sometime. For me pieces like this (500 – 750 words) are perfect vehicles for exploring and fleshing out thoughts, methods, and techniques.
Thanks Brad, your critiques are always insightful and thought provoking….they are greatly appreciated!!
jcmontgomery in reply to incaalpaca’s comment, 2 months ago
Thank you Inca. You are so very kind and generous.
Not that I am so good with gaelic mind you, but I wanted to show my appreciation and respect by saying, “Dia is muire dhuit” as I believe it is the appropriate response.
incaalpaca, 2 months ago
wow I am very impressed, amazing and I have not heard that response in eons as no one I have met here knows this. JCM you are the bonniest lady.. Beannacht De ort a chailin ailinn
Bradley Heden, 2 months ago
Hey, you take all the fun out of it when you give me your leave to use a theme you developed in my own work. I find it far more rewarding to steal people’s ideas without their permission.
Miri, 2 months ago
JC – beautiful, beautiful, beautiful…what more can i say…..love the analogy & symbolism of a glass mosaic
jcmontgomery in reply to Miri’s comment, 2 months ago
Wow Bex….I don’t think you could say anything nicer than this! Thank you so much.
Natella2020, 2 months ago
This was practice?????????
The thing I found most interesting was that she was able to find not one but two pieces of glass that were perfect. Then again, perfection is subjective—many believe that imperfection is, in fact, true perfection, or as close to perfection as anything in our world can reach.
A wondrous and thoughtful piece, sweetly written, and filled with genuine hope.
jcmontgomery in reply to Natella2020’s comment, 2 months ago
LOL…seriously, this is my way of “practicing” – or maybe I should have said developing….
When creating stained glass windows and such, most times you pre-cut the glass so when it breaks, it will come apart in the shape that you had cut into the glass. When she broke that pane, part of it was cut, the rest would break into sharp shards. Some artists like taking haphazard pieces and making something of them. Hence she got both, some pre-determined, some haphazard.
Sort of like life. Some things we plan and it works out that way, some things just happen and we have to make due with what is dropped in our laps. So there she was looking amongst the choas of shards looking for those “planned” pieces – seeking some logic in amongst the mess.
Hope that explains it a little better. In fact, I could develop this more using what I just said…hmmm
Thanks Natella!
joolie1, about 1 month ago
JC – I’m amazed at not only the volume but the quality of your work. Each piece I read, though I haven’t commented on all, touches me. I feel what your character is feeling. You are very talented at conveying through showing; More-so, I think, than you know.
jcmontgomery in reply to joolie1’s comment, about 1 month ago
I am very, very flattered. And yes, it is perhaps more so than I know. Previously, all my writing has been academic. Creative prose has been a joy, but a challenge—a good challenge. I have really enjoyed it so far.
Thank you for a such a lovely compliment.
filfil, about 1 month ago
I was truly touched by this poignant story. The metaphor of a broken window and a mosaic used to show death and rebirth are wonderfully used. I am deeply moved by your story. The skills and your talent come through so well in this piece. A great read.
jcmontgomery in reply to filfil’s comment, about 1 month ago
Even though I had to trim about 50 words from it, I think (I hope) it has the same impact with the judges, and seeing that I made it through the first cut, I think it did.
Thank you so much for taking the interest and the time to read this and offer such an insightful review of my work. It is greatly appreciated!