When my baby came to me, fresh and new, she was a beautiful piece of glass, unique and one of a kind, delicate, small and fragile.
As I raised my baby, I helped her to paint her soul in rich colors, the colors of the rainbow.
Each quality I taught my child had a unique color all it's own.
Kindness was green, Love was red, patience was blue, sympathy was purple.
As the years went by and my baby turned the corner into womanhood, she was the most beautiful mosaic, still so unique but with so many colors.
I would often marvel in quiet times at how I could be so blessed with such a wonderful child, how her colors were so bold and vibrant. Sometimes, my heart would swell with Love and pride to such a degree that I felt it would burst right inside my chest.
Soon enough, the precious mosaic that I had so lovingly tended and created was ready to strike out on her own. My world, I knew would be less bright without the constant presence of my child, for I knew that with her went all of the richness and color that she had brought into my life.
My mosaic, my child, would fly in now and again, or call or send a card, and for a brief but sweet time, her richness and color would once again come back to me. I was happy to have it, if only for a fleeting while and my heart and soul looked forward to each time her mosaic would once again color my world.
After some time and years had passed, my mosaic called one day, she needed me badly, for her mosaic was broken.
I arrived to her and all of her rich colors were laying in bits and pieces about her feet.
She was crying, she was broken and did not know how to put herself back together again. My heart dropped as I looked at all of the pieces about her feet. I knew then that I must help her pick up the pieces and put them back together.
I assured her that although she would never be quite the same, that just as I had lovingly help create her mosaic, I would somehow, someway, help her put it back together.
We worked tirelessly on the mosaic for many days but some pieces that had fit wonderfully side by side, never fit quite right back into the same place as before.
So together we found a new pattern, a new mosaic, with different combinations and colors.
When we finally completed the mosaic, her pieces were the same but in a different pattern and we delighted to find some colors combined were more beautiful than they were before.
There was a richness about it that is hard to describe. Perhaps because we had done it together this time.
Together we stood back to admire our work.
The mosaic was stronger, more beautiful than ever because now they included the colors that only experience can bring you.
We found that tolerance is burgundy, inner strength is chartrusse and faith is lemon yellow.
Wendy Harris Cottone