All to Pieces
On Sunday, when I was doing a spot of shopping (a spot seems to be all I can do these days), I happened upon a manikin in a state of dishabille. Worse than dishabille, actually: The poor thing was in pieces. Head over here. Legs over there. An errant arm on top of a pile of sweaters I was pawing through in search of a size M.
It was not unlike what I was feeling.
Because as we grow (ahem) older, isn’t bewilderment a prime emotion? We lose people we love and the world shifts on its axis. We change jobs or switch commutes. One card shop closes and another takes its place. What used to be appears in ever-more-sepia tones.
From small to large the changes mount, until one day we look up and the world just isn’t the same anymore.
This is not to say it’s always worse. Sometimes it’s better. It’s just different, that’s all.
