My Puzzle

Actually, I don't think this is a very good work. But sometimes, you cannot wait till everything's perfect before you step out and put yourself, your work on the line for others' opinion and criticism. Perhaps that's the best(only) way to improve, after all. So, here's my imperfect offering, be honest and kind, please.

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When I was young, the pieces of my jigsaw puzzle all fitted together. It made a beautiful picture, rectangular in shape, all neat corners and ends. Life was full, there were no dark shadows to plague my dreams; or even when there were, they could always be chased away by a comforting bedtime tale. In that story the jigsaw told, good guys always won at the end although they had to suffer through many trials first, and bad guys would always be punished; in a non-gory but final manner. Love and family would always triumph over all. It was a world of happily-ever-afters.

Somehow, as the years went by, the puzzle changed. Suddenly there seemed to be no corners anymore. Every piece was a stand-alone, a clue to the final picture yet unexplainable on its own. Every day and month brought pieces of this new picture into my life. At the same time, the beautiful puzzle of my childhood was disintegrating.

Some days, I get a piece of sky and I’m happy, because it reminds me of safe, warm things: family, friendship, loyalty, kindness. It doesn’t explain away all the negative things, but it reminds me that good things exist. Other times, I’m almost shattered when a fragment of dark comes my way –shreds of mashed-up hopes and dreams, torn pieces unconceivable tragedy, strips of mistakes and regrets. And it seems sometimes that there are nothing but grey and black pieces in this jigsaw and if that’s all I’m going to get, what’s the point of continuing to assemble it?

Once in a while, but more often now, I can figure out a patch of the puzzle but there’s a hole in the middle. Without the missing piece, the picture cannot be understood. So I look everywhere for it, asking others where I could find it: and to my surprise and despair, they say there are always missing pieces in the grown-up puzzle! You just have to live with unexplained mysteries, they say. I’ve refused to believe that, I think if only I can search hard enough, I’ll find those precious answers somewhere. I just need to try harder, that’s all. They sigh and tell me that I’ll see their point of view, in time.

Many people I meet are making their own puzzles, too. We show each other parts of our whole but never everything. Still, some people wear their puzzles on their sleeves. It’s very easy to see the picture they’re going to end up with. However, you never know. One piece more or less could change everything. One decision can change the course of our lives, too.

My puzzle is far from done, and I’m figuring more of it every day. I know this is going to be my life work, because each day is going to give me more pieces of the jigsaw; to sort out, to group, to put together in order to become something meaningful. I press on because I believe that one day when it’s all over, I’m going to stand back and look at the puzzle and look all the pieces I’ve put together: the light, the dark, the grey and the colourful and even the missing holes: and it will finally make sense, it will be whole, complete.

What an awesome sight that would be!

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