I saw this quote somewhere a week or two ago and I cannot get the image out of my head. Most things DO break if given enough time. I'm like most things then. For a long time, I have felt as if I am breaking. My memory shows cracks and the cracks shake my sense of me. My mind twists as it searches for sleep at night, potentially breaking into fragments. My heart feels strung out and thin, skating on slippery expectations, looking for warm. My body moves as a million units, all screaming their own names, all poised to break, one piece at a time. Can I be put back together again? My friend Megan suggests that these images are hopeful, that some things can be broken up and can be reassembled. How would that look? My memory reassembles as a whole different person, the play of childhood replaced by the taunting of adolescence or the disappointments of employment. My mind shatters on its way to sleep one night and I wake up as brilliant artist who loves math and can speak French. My heart? My heart attaches itself to sweets and softens up, thin no more and wrapped in a cozy rich blanket of fat. My body units go to Esalen and take a workshop in interpersonal communication and start hugging each other. So I am put back together again, maybe not every piece, maybe not whole, but recreated in some new way. And a new part of life begins.