So, a hummingbird china musical box was an exquisite and fitting birthday gift from my mother.
Shortly after she died, it fell, the base breaking in multiple places.
With its carefully glued together broken side turned inward, it still graces my bookshelf.
On days when I miss her intensely, I turn the music key, close my eyes and recall the day I received it.
As its musical box song plays, it is accompanied by my mother’s voice softly singing along, when she lovingly held my hand that held the figurine.
The broken hummingbird not only holds memories of my mother, but it has revealed an embedded metaphor for aging well.
As we age, bits and pieces of our outward body break down or break off. Repairs are made, but nothing can quite put us back together, quite the same way.
We are all chipped and broken.
Yet, when the Japanese mend broken objects, they aggrandize the damage by filling the cracks with gold. They believe that something becomes more beautiful when it suffers damage, for it has a history.
Within our worn out and mend together bodies, we each house a beauty of unique lives, filled with a history of memories.
No matter how much golden crazy glue is required to keep my outward body presentable, my golden threads still sparkle.
Despite my multiple mended life cracks, as I live a life into crescendo, I can still play my golden life melody.
Just like you.