I'm pretty sure that while you and I were building a sand castle one day we grew careless of our shovel and lost it to the waves. It was when we abandoned our handiwork to chase after our tools, I think, that the tide stole up and snuck off with what we were in the middle of creating. That was the moment we undermined our chances of making something we could see from space.
I feel broken tonight, softly spiderwebbed through-and-through. And that's fine, because in a few days I'll be full of glue and bandaids and pink ribbons, anxious to patch up not only myself but everyone in the next three counties too, and sheepish for yet again admitting to being damaged. The only way to appreciate being fixed is to also appreciate being broken, or at least that's what I'm telling myself tonight. And so I am home, held together with string and spit and hope, waiting until it is time for today to be over so that tomorrow can start.
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