27

Little Girl,

You broke a water glass today. We watched it shatter into a thousand shards at our feet (actually my feet. I was carrying you.) You will be like that someday. You will be like glass—fallen, broken, at someone’s feet. It doesn’t matter when or where. Someone is bound to break you whether they mean to or not.

The only consolation I can tell you is this: there is beauty in the fallen whether it be glass, petals, stars or people. It is when you fall when you feel most human, and isn’t that just the point of life? To be human and to be real. There is nothing more real than pain, nothing more substantial than battle scars.

You may never piece yourself together again but you can be made into something else. A piece of polished jewelry maybe. Or maybe a makeshift knife. You can inspire or you can hurt when you’re broken. The great thing is you get to choose which one.

Scarred,
Me