Today I received a text message from a person I don’t really talk to anymore. It was strange, because there was no feeling of inclusion, no warmth of shared history. It was the appearance of an old puzzle piece; one which I’m not sure how to fit in to the new landscape I’m trying to build.
It’s not that there won’t ever be a place for this piece, thought there might not be. It might be a piece that won’t work in the new setting I’m building, or I might find the perfect nook for it later, where it will perfectly plug a hole I’ve been struggling with. I might never find a perfect place for it; it might pinch and hurt, getting jammed into a space not quite big enough. Perhaps it will simply hang loosely on the edges, not quite growing into the space I’ve given it.
All of those things, however, come with time.
Right now I don’t even have the puzzle out of the box. I don’t even know what puzzle I have. I’m still trying to decide on which design I want.
I’ll keep it for later, but right now I can’t make it fit, and I have nothing for it to fit into. So, for now, I’m going to put this puzzle piece in a plastic bag and put it away.