Later today, I'm meeting a friend I haven't seen for a year. Our friendship was a casualty of my cruel insomnia and various stresses that she was encountering. The friendship didn't die but it was damaged, like a cracked vase, and was left up there on a dusty shelf, to either be repaired or discarded.
But it is a much-loved vase, it has held such flowers as you could hardly imagine – everything, all types of blooms and greenery have sat in the vase and have brightened up rooms and faded elegantly when their time was up. The vase could hold all types of cuttings and look good. Even when they died and dried, the flowers held beauty.
The crack, it would appear, is superficial. Water doesn't leak. Its function is not impaired. When mended, maybe it will be stronger where the bond is renewed. Perhaps, then, it will be taken off the shelf and put in pride of place again.
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