With The last piece nestled into its place and held there by glue, I wondered how noticeable the cracks would be once back the angel was back on the shelf from which it fell yesterday. But we knew the truth, that porcelain angel hadn’t exactly fallen from that shelf.
My precious porcelain angel had been knocked off that shelf by the awkward and clumsy frame of a boy chasing after his dog in the house. Not just any boy, but my son.
At first I was angry, but as I glued the pieces back together, I realized the significance of the porcelain angel had changed. Having been raised in a home of rigid rules and a swift hand of hard discipline, I thought about my son bumping into the shelf as he played with his dog.
Never again would I look at it with its broken jagged lines without remembering our happy home, where a boy could play with his dog, or wrestle with his little brother.
The porcelain angel truly was more glorious than it had ever been.
1 comment:
Nice little tale, kid. Glad to see you got the code thingie straightened out. lol
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