This was a week with a lot of broken glass in my house. I had a lamp that was in my grandparents' house when I was little. I remember it, and remember being fascinated by it. It had a hollow amber sphere of glass that lit up. Who knew how it would shatter! There were several dishes also, and a jar of applesauce (full). And as I was cleaning up one of those messes, I was wondering - why is glass so nasty to clean up? I mean, it is everywhere. It goes around corners. It can leap tall chairs in a single bound. It seems like you can't get it up. Even when you think you got it all, you didn't.
But then some dots connected in me somewhere about pain. Pain in relationships is never simple. Breakups, desertions, betrayals, divorces, relationship wounds - they're like broken glass. They aren't simple. You don't just pick up the two neatly broken pieces. It's never that easy. There are shards and slivers lingering, hiding, waiting to make you bleed when you bump into them in the most unsuspecting way.
Broken glass is a good picture of the way that sort of thing feels, I think.
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