She found a piece of herself
under the couch last month.
It was dusty and covered in Cheerio crumbs
but it definitely belonged to her.
It was hard to tell
but she thinks it might be her sense of adventure.
Last week she opened a box in the attic
and was shocked to find
her drive for justice in the box
with her high school yearbooks.
She sets the found pieces
in a box, next to her jewelry.
She doesn’t think about them again
until she finds a paintbrush
buried in the junk drawer in the bathroom.
Her heart trips over itself
at the sight of a long-lost love.
She used to be known as
the artist.
It joins the other pieces on her dresser.
The next day, during a long afternoon at work
she re-discovers her ambition via
an email search.
She found it in an email about a business idea
from when she first graduated college.
It is still a good idea.
She creates a folder titled:
Business Idea
and moves the email there so she
can come back to it.
That evening
as she puts the girls’ clothes away
she squeals when she finds
one of her favorite toys
from when she was a girl.
She realizes then, that its been
a long time since she
felt joy that
relishes the simple things.
She carries the little toy
to join the rest of the pieces of her.
When she looks up
from her jewelry tray
she catches her reflection
in the mirror and
pauses.
All this time she thought she was
a whole person,
pursuing all that she is meant to,
but now that she’s discovered
misplaced pieces of her,
she takes stock.
Is anything else missing?
How do I incorporate these
pieces of me back into my life,
where they rightfully belong?
Without them,
I am not wholly me.
Her heart quickens,
beats to redeem
lost time.
She calls for the girls as she grabs
her paintbrush and
runs to the playroom.
For now,
any paint will do.
She has to paint right this minute.
To put the pieces back together.
To be whole.
To be all that she is meant to be.
#PermissionGranted
