this broken bottle.
December 7, 2014 — 8:39

Author: Amy Jo  Category: Uncategorized  Tags: , , ,   Comments: 1


When we were young my family visited a beach that had several broken glass bottles near the water. The remnant pieces were sharp, dangerous to the touch, yet blended in with the rocky shore in a camouflage of vulnerability. The fresh edges mirrored a razor; and pulled to me with the enticement of curiosity. I wondered how all those broken bottles got there. I stopped, leaned down and inspected the frustration that must have caused the motion, that aired the bottle, that shattered the glass into a thousand pieces.  My dad cautioned us to step carefully so we didn’t fall and cut our knees. I repeated his warning in my mind as I hopped from rock to rock, watching the sun catch the hazard and spin it back as skewed light. Just as we were all starting to explore, my sister Toots slipped and fell, and cut her knee wide open on a fresh section of glass. A frenzy of warnings were shouted to the rest of us, a wound was patched, pressure applied, and the rush to leave was expedited. I have often wondered about the glass pieces that layered that beach, so sharp, and now…perhaps, so soft. With waves of motion churning the edges, weather knocking off the sharp angles, and sand gently grating away at the glass…the result is an ornament of days. Enriched by the experiences of the elements, the edges become soft, scars fade, time heals…and always, brilliant beauty remains.


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