Lately I’ve been reminded of the Japanese art of Kintsugi: putting broken pieces back together with gold. It’s a metaphor that reminds us to embrace the flaws and imperfections – that in those cracks you can find something new. But lately, as I think about it, it’s reassuring to think our hearts can do that, too.
While reading Anxious People by Fredrik Backman, I couldn’t help but be reminded of the humanity that exists in all of us. Of the shared happiness and fears and anxiety and joys that come with connection.
I didn’t expect that in five days my family’s world would be completely shaken. That we would have to navigate grief in a pandemic, where the air already feels so saturated with a similar sadness.
From running to the ER from my apartment one morning where I couldn’t stop crying to the nurses on duty; to waking up at 2 am in the Dominican where I crawled into my parents’ hotel room so I could feel some comfort as I curled up against my mother; to crying many nights to whichever of my Facebook friends or cousins was online in the dead of night, I have faced my fair share of paralyzing fear. Some nights I wake up thinking I can’t breathe. And most nights I can’t help but ask: why now and why me?
If your roommate ever asks if you want to get away for 7 days, answer yes: always yes. That’s exactly how I found myself on the gorgeous Dutch-owned island of Curaçao.
When you hear an impending ice storm is about to hit Toronto (why, Mother Nature, why…) and you just have a bunch of free time on your hands, you suddenly find yourself packing a bag and setting off one Friday morning.