My family is like a jigsaw puzzle. Our purpose and values determined by the sum of all its pieces, with each contributing something different and unique to the big picture. All the pieces are important in different ways, and if one piece is missing the puzzle is incomplete.
I have to admit that I miss the days when we were always together, all under one roof all the time. Our “puzzle” was always intact then, a little messier and chaotic with the borders a little frayed and in disarray, but intact and ideal, nonetheless. Over the years as my husband and I adopted different roles within the family and my sons matured from boys to men, developed separate interests, stayed away, moved away, discovered the opposite sex and other things young adults do, our puzzle is often left missing a piece or two. Yeah, I know that’s life, it’s what we aspire for, what we dream of, the normal progression of our being, but sometimes you can’t help but miss it all. You miss the presence, the responsibility, the support, the noise, the banter, the jokes, the togetherness.
Then one day, on a day you least or most expect, all the pieces turn up and fall into place and it’s just like old times again. Each piece of the puzzle present and playing its part, all different but none, exclusive. The joker joking, the supporter supporting, the encourager encouraging, the dreamer dreaming and the mother smiling, all the pieces held together by the glue of togetherness.
Big picture puzzle, complete.