The sleeve of my blouse caught the tip of a flower bud.
Those in my bedroom that give off vibrancy and color and softness.
In my haste and hurry, I brought down the whole vase, every last petal and branch.
The glass broke and shattered, flowers laying there in shards and pieces.
And I had to walk away and save the mess for later. I was late and hurried and had to get to work, to obligation and responsibility.
My morning began with brokenness.
The day came and went with its tensions, disappointments and frustrations as days always do. And it never ends at 5pm with the ending of work.
Tommy's carsickness made for a memorable ride home. My baby fussed at me all evening and somehow I interpret this as him being upset with me for not being with him all day.
I didn't get to eat all of my dinner, and I look in the mirror and wonder how this weight stays on me when it seems I eat so little. I was enraged that I still have the body of a binger when I am not one anymore.
Contempt coming and going, lies swirling around waiting to be invited in to my heart.
Anger rising up and seeping in.
Tears have poured. The guilty ones. The frustrated and tired ones.
The wondering when things will ever change - those tears.
And after the babes were tucked in bed, kissed on their foreheads and prayers said for the night, there was the glass.
The broken and shattered.
The flowers, still and forgotten.
Glass. Reminding me that I am broken.
Flowers. Reminding me of beauty. My beauty.
My night ended with brokenness.
Pieces picked up, tossed away.
A new vase for the flowers that endured what had been shattered.