Remember when I wrote something about going to the library with the husband? The trip sparked 2 ideas/goals and a new found love for books. I don’t have time to read but I have 8 hours a day at where I work to listen. We aren’t supposed to listen to audiobooks but I do anyways…or now I do. I’m almost done with an Anne Rice novel and I forgot how much I enjoyed her style. I wish I could write like her but in shorter stories. There’s one.
Two is the library hosts their own quilt show/contest. Oh my! The talent in some these quilts. Next years theme is Flowers and I really REALLY want to enter but the problem is I don’t know how to quilt. Not like what was on display there. So, do I get a machine and try or just put that thought on the back burner? I’m looking into second-hand sewing machines and will YouTube the S*!+ out of the subject and even get to the library for how to books.
Three. The biggy. Picture it, the South, the early 2000s. I’m in my first trimester with a sibling for my other kiddos. Money is tight for my young family both parents not experienced enough to deal with adult responsibilities. The military pay wasn’t all that great, especially for our growing family and I offered to get a job at a local restaurant. My husband at that time had FORBIDDEN me to work. I was lucky I could leave the house, truth be told. He had been hoarding a clothing allowance that he received for almost a year. It was HIS money. It was ALL HIS MONEY. I woke up one morning and purchased a $350 18,000 piece puzzle. Believe me, I paid for it later but not with money.
Now, almost 11 years later this puzzles sits at the top of my closet. Only opened once to see what it looked like inside. A box of bad memories and pain just sitting and collecting dust. I noticed when visiting the library that there was a puzzle in the back area on a table being put together. I had asked about it and the librarian said it was sometimes put together by the staff, sometimes it was put together by other people. ‘Would the library take a donation in the form of a puzzle?’ I knew when I asked she probably thought that there were pieces missing or that it was in rough shape. The shock on her face when my husband carried in the puzzle. It was heavy for me but he carried it in like a bale of hay.
‘The box looks a little rough. It has traveled with me, baggage if you will for over 11 years. The four sections are bagged separately. Each section to a bag. This is number 17 out of 8216 puzzles made and the shipping slips show that it’s from Germany originally. There’s a certificate of authenticity and a poster for image reference. Can the library use it? It will finish 9 feet wide by 6 feet tall.’ She was overwhelmed and excited to receive it and the only thing I asked was to see it if and when it’s finished. She didn’t need to know the history of the puzzle.
I feel lighter. A reminder of past pain and abuse (both emotional, mental, and physical) related to that box is gone. I don’t need to hold on to it and something awesomely great will come from it. The beauty of the craftsmanship of the puzzle will FINALLY be put together. I still have a lot of healing to do and this was a great step forward.