My vase was large and beautiful.
It was precious to me, something I had taken good care of from when I was a teenager.
I had minded it like a baby.
I never let anyone touch it, or I never lent it to anyone.
No, it was mine, mine until I met someone to share it with. I was so excited to share my everything with this person. I trusted Him with anything precious in my life including my vase. I was so proud to share everything with Him.
That first time he knocked it over and it fell against the side of the press, a tiny chip of glass disappeared from the rim. He couldn’t see it, but when I moved a finger along the edge I knew there was a bit missing. He was so apologetic afterwards. Arrived with a bunch of flowers and a box of chocolates for me!
I forgave Him, it was an accident and only a tiny chip.
Then we moved in together. My precious vase had a few accidental knocks along the way. But He always apologised with a bunch of flowers or a box of chocolates. Buying a house is one of the most stressful times in a young couples life and it was so difficult to protect my vase with all the moving and organising.
But it was only a few chips that were lost to it until one particular day we were having an argument, about six months before our wedding day, and bang it was on the floor. Luckily for me (and my vase) it landed on a soft rug and the hairline crack was only visible if I looked very closely. I rubbed a bit of superglue onto the inside and outside of the crack just to strengthen the glass.
I placed it back on its shelf carefully and He apologised the next day but I didn’t get any flowers or chocolates this time unfortunately.
The day after we got married my vase got knocked to the floor again and this time it cracked in two. I was gobsmacked. He knew how precious it was to me and yet He didn’t see how knocking it over would hurt me so much. ‘Your own fault’ He said.
I cried and cried thinking I would never be able to repair it, but I did, just in time for the start of our honeymoon the following day. I had gotten the superglue out and stuck it back together with as much love and care as I could muster up. I managed to fit the two pieces back together so no one would ever notice it had ever been broken. But I knew.
By the end of the two weeks I had all but forgotten about the so called accident to my vase.
Just back home from our honeymoon, newly weds, in our new home my vase was broken again. This time it was a piece of glass that broke away. No apologies either. ‘What’s the fecking problem? it was your own fault!’ He shouted at me.
I glued the piece back on. I shouldv’e just thrown the vase out but it was mine and I was very attached to it. I stuck a bit of cellotape along the cracks just to strengthen it and placed it back on the shelf.
Once our first baby arrived I put that vase on the highest shelf. But I put it up too high because 3 months later we had a big argument and the vase came crashing down and broke in half again. He apologised the day after.
That was the last time he knocked it over; I glued it, wrapped in up in a sheet of bubble wrap, placed it in a box and put it into the attic for safe keeping. Out of sight out of mind as they say.
Keeping it wrapped up and hidden was a great way to protect it. I had done all I could.
Until one day I took it back out from the attic, hiding it away was not actually protecting it. I might as well not have it at all. It was time to do something about it. I carefully took it out of the box, placed it on my knees and unwrapped it. After 4 or 5 years in the attic my poor vase looked a lot worse than I had remembered. It was covered in those little hairline cracks you see in old crockery along with all the ones I remembered.
The old cellotape and glue that had been holding it together seemed to unravel before my eyes and my vase fell apart into hundreds of pieces in the bubble wrap on my lap.
After years of repairing and then keeping it wrapped up my vase was completely broken.
It was finally beyond repair.
And you know what? I was so relieved.
I now know that if you have something precious in your life, like your heart, and you share it with someone else, if they do anything to cause a crack or they break it, you don’t go back for more. Because if you do they will continue to break it, again and again and again. And no matter how hard you try to repair your broken heart or hide it, it will always bare those scars.