Pieces of her

She found a piece of herself

under the couch last month. 

It was dusty and covered in Cheerio crumbs

but it definitely belonged to her.

It was hard to tell 

but she thinks it might be her sense of adventure.

Last week she opened a box in the attic 

and was shocked to find 

her drive for justice in the box

with her high school yearbooks.

She sets the found pieces

in a box, next to her jewelry. 

She doesn’t think about them again

until she finds a paintbrush

buried in the junk drawer in the bathroom.

Her heart trips over itself

at the sight of a long-lost love.

She used to be known as

the artist. 

It joins the other pieces on her dresser.

The next day, during a long afternoon at work 

she re-discovers her ambition via 

an email search. 

She found it in an email about a business idea

from when she first graduated college.

It is still a good idea. 

She creates a folder titled:

Business Idea

and moves the email there so she 

can come back to it.

That evening

as she puts the girls’ clothes away

she squeals when she finds 

one of her favorite toys 

from when she was a girl.

She realizes then, that its been

a long time since she

felt joy that 

relishes the simple things. 

She carries the little toy 

to join the rest of the pieces of her. 

When she looks up

from her jewelry tray 

she catches her reflection

in the mirror and 

pauses.

All this time she thought she was

a whole person,

pursuing all that she is meant to,

but now that she’s discovered

misplaced pieces of her,

she takes stock. 

Is anything else missing?

How do I incorporate these

pieces of me back into my life,

where they rightfully belong?

Without them, 

I am not wholly me.

Her heart quickens, 

beats to redeem

lost time. 

She calls for the girls as she grabs 

her paintbrush and

runs to the playroom.

For now,

any paint will do.

She has to paint right this minute.

To put the pieces back together.

To be whole. 

To be all that she is meant to be. 

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