Daily Prompt: Broken
Once upon a time, in the land of hush-a-bye, long about the wondrous days of yore, lived a young girl who loved her family. They had been wealthy once, lived in a big house, with all the trappings that wealth brings with it. Each year on December 1 they would break out the huge box of Christmas decorations and set them about the house, singing Christmas songs in the festive spirit of the season. Each year, her mother brought out the golden angels. Gold-leaf ceramic figurines that were her mother’s most prized possession. They were placed in the highest place of honor in their home, the center of the huge dinning table were they were seen and admired by all.
And it came to pass that the family fell upon hard times. They sold the home they all loved and moved into a small rental many miles away. Following what jobs her father could find, they struggled to keep food on the table and spirits up. This December, Father brought home a small and somewhat straggly tree, Christmas trees being scarce in the desert. When they had decorated the tree and played the Christmas albums, it came time to bring out the angels. Mother opened the box and carefully began to unwrap the tissue paper. The girl watched her mothers face fall as tears dropped to the wrappings. There in the box where they had been packed with such painstaking care, lay the angels, broken. The girl saw hope and dreams fade from her mother’s eyes. Mother ran weeping from the room.
Late that night, all unseen, the girl crept from her bedroom and spirited away the broken angels. There night after night with glue and patience she pieced together the ruined jigsaw of the shattered angels. Finally after many nights, she applied remnants of gold leaf that had been carefully saved from long ago craft projects, sealing the entire figurines with thinned glue. Having no other gift for her parents, she wrapped the angels with infinite care in a scrap of pretty fabric she had saved from an outgrown dress. She placed the package under the Christmas tree.
Christmas morning was happy, as Christmas mornings always are; yet somehow subdued. After the children had opened their gifts, the girl ran to the tree and pulling her carefully wrapped parcel from the back of the tree, she held it out to her mother.
“What’s this?” Mother asked.
The girl smiled in reply.
With trembling fingers, Mother carefully unwrapped the gift. Her eyes went wide and she turned to her daughter with a single word, “How?”
Eyes downcast, the girl spoke softly, “I know they’re not as good as before, but I wanted you to have them, somehow.”
Mother carefully set the renewed angels down and dropped to her knees, embracing her daughter. “Oh my precious child, thank you. You give me hope.”
“But Mother they’re still broken,” the girl mused.
“My darling, broken things are beautiful too. They are not the same, they are better. The love you put into them shows in every nook and cranny. They are perfect and more.”
“My sweet child I know it’s true
broken things have dents and dings
but they have beauty too.” ~oep