The tooth of a coyote. A segment from heaven. An error in packaging details. Was this un-noted piece of puzzle riddled with innate wisdom. Or merely a reflection of man’s first rock tool. Some would suggest, its function to be nothing more than a writing tablet for residential cockroaches. Clearly not a blimp in printing. No. This piece of space was made into form for a reason. The Buddha of all puzzle pieces. Silent wisdom presenting itself from under the veil, for all to see and few to recognize. A Detachment-Guide; material to test material attachment and moral obligations.
Somehow and utmost ecstatically, this puzzle, re-entered into my life. As I opened the lid, suspended in suspense, there was only one thing to do. Search for the segment. The piece of space. Not even the red hat, mended with sticky-tape-turned-yellow, could bring back as many fond memories as this tiny piece of space. Obviously, still utterly attached.
“remember me, the piece… the piece of space”, it didn’t say, but I had hoped it did.
Before opening the puzzle, part of me thought that a piece this small wouldn’t survive the many years of dusty boxed life. It had been quite a lengthy period of time since we last connected. Yet upon opening, all doubts were put to the side. Instantly, I was confronted, by this sentimental fragment. A silence reined over my parade. I gave myself a moment, a few minutes, just to settle any nerves. There’s just something so special, extremely profound, in the way an object can re-connect you to feelings that you once felt at a previous time.
There was only one thing to do. Count the pieces and do the puzzle. Part of me, just hoping piece of space was not included in the puzzle piece count. For no other reason than, to feel more special than the featured boy on the box cover. A boy whom seems emotionally fulfilled holding a chicken-puzzle-piece and not the piece-of-space-piece. A boy now well into old age, being a puzzle from the early 60’s. Part of me couldn’t help but wonder, if this now-man, boy, had been effected, as I, by the piece of space.
Looking at piece of space, now, whilst writing of it’s impact within my life, it reminds me, slightly, of the bread offering at church, that I ate, even though I had not been baptized for bread and wine consumption. I attended catholic schools my whole schooling period and my parents left it up to us children if we wanted to be baptized or not. For some reason I said no. Most probably because at Friday mass, Joshua would always spit in the holy water, or it meant I had to be closer to the priest than I had ever wanted to be. But more so, probably, because my parents asked me when I was knee deep in child play and selective hearing had a grasp on my ears. I’m almost 100% certain I wasn’t piecing together this clown, but if I was any good at lying, I’d most probably use it to up-this-pointless-story a couple of notches. But I consider, a pointless story, just as productive as a story with point. Sometimes, silliness is just the best piece of something-a-rather.