Picking Up the Pieces

I remember one day at home while I was emptying the dishwasher I lifted up a glass cup, misjudged how tall it was, and smashed it against the top of the dishwasher. Glass shards scattered every which way. I thought I was going to get in trouble but my dad came in and with a nonchalant "Oh well," instructed me to start picking up the pieces. So I did. The big pieces got picked up by hand and thrown in an Eggo box we had sitting on the counter. I got the broom to sweep the entirety of the kitchen floor just in case shards bounced to the other side of the room. Whipped out the dust-pan and swept it into the garbage. The vacuum cleaner was pulled out too, just to be safe. The entirety of the process lasted about five minutes. It was easy. 

If only life were a five-minute mess to clean up. In life, when you misjudge the height of the cup you're picking up you have to go through a process to clean up your mess. Let's just be general here and agree that those messes you make take a little longer than five minutes to clean up. Harsh words are exchanged. Tears are shed. Delusions of fixing the problem like the heroes in movies do infiltrate your mind. Walls are broken. Feelings are hurt. "Why is this happening" becomes the only non-offensive, non-vulgar phrase you keep hearing in your head. Adrenaline flows through your veins like the very blood that makes your vessels its home. You feel invincible and vulnerable at the same time. 

If only it were possible to seize the hands of time and wrench them back with all your might, all your being, and undo what happened.

But that's impossible and you have to live with the decisions that were made, yours or others'. And now fear, doubt, suspicion, and loathing have taken shelter in your subconscious. They creep into your thoughts like smoke through the cracks of your apartment door. No matter what you do, the fire that is out in the hall is going to get in. You can try to fight it, try to open up the window and let things filter out but you realize more smoke is coming in than is going out. 

The smoke is coming through. The glass cup is broken. Do you cry over broken glass or get a broom and clean it up? 

Being sensible is harder than it sounds.