The Missing Puzzle Piece

When my first business crashed and burned quite dramatically, I was left with a gaping hole in my life and heart. Living on friends and family members couches and working wacky and long hours in a warehouse, had taken a heavy toll on my spirit. I was sleep deprived and often in excruciating pain from 12+ hour shifts walking on unforgiving warehouse floors. Home Depot was offering unlimited overtime, and I needed it, but I also paid the price with my body.

My first nephew had recently come into the world, and often times when I went to visit him, we both ended up taking naps at the same time, snuggled together on the loveseat. His presence was a sort of therapy for me both physically and metaphorically, as his new life and breath began to fill me with vitality again.

As time moved on and I found my life shifting again and living in Washington DC and away from family, I had a deep pit in my stomach and missed my nephew. As a woman that never wanted kids for myself (my thought has always been, I "raised" my siblings and myself, why would I need to raise more children?"), I had grown quite attached to my new nephew and his big brown eyes and sweet smile. 

On a visit to Ohio to see family, I found myself wound up in many emotions--mourning the person I never was. Feeling like I was torn between living my new life in DC and trying to keep family ties active in Ohio. It was a weird time frame for me as I desperately attempted to make a new life for myself moving out of my hometown for the first time in my life at 31.

Matthew is a magical boy, and he seems to be able to commune with the world in a way that is beyond explanation. I was staying at my parents house during the visit, and was set up in the bedroom I shared with my siblings when I was younger. Matthew was about 3 at the time, and was just learning to string words and meanings together. I was tucked into bed, getting ready to dive into a book I had plucked from the bookshelf. 

I heard the door at the bottom of the stairwell open, and then clumsy feet climbing up, up, up. Soon, little eyes peered through the cracked door, then it burst open wildly.

"Aunt Em, you forgot this! This is yours."

I was confused, as I could see nothing being held in his hands. He walked closer and held up a little fragment of something no larger than a quarter.

"This is yours."

Still confused, I held out my hand, and in the center of my palm he laid a singular puzzle piece.

"Where did you get this?" I asked.

"I don't know. But it's yours."

Confused, I studied the puzzle piece as Matthew swiftly left the bedroom and returned downstairs. 

I flipped the piece over in my hand. Eventually I laid the piece by the nightstand and got into my reading and fell asleep dreaming about puzzles.

I awoke to Matthew intruding into the bedroom again, smiles on his face.

"Breakfast is ready," he said loudly, like he was a stand in for the alarm clock.

I grabbed the rogue puzzle piece from the nightstand and followed him to the kitchen. I had assumed the rest of the crew had been up late doing a puzzle while I read the night away.

"Matthew gave me this piece last night, it's probably missing from a puzzle" I said to everyone at the table.

Mom and Dad and Matthew all look at me, with puzzled looks.

"I don't know where that's from," my Dad said after I handed him the piece and he studied it. "Where did you get this Matthew?" He asked.

Matthew smiled between bites of his breakfast, and said without hesitation. "It's Aunt Em's puzzle piece."

It's been over 5 years since this happened, and that little puzzle piece has been tucked safely in between my cellphone case and my phone, as a little piece of luck. 

The missing puzzle piece is in all of us. Some of us can see it better than others, and Matthew could see me more clearly than I could see myself.

I returned to Washington DC, and not long after this little story happened, COVID19 tore the world apart. I was forced to move back to Ohio, and spent the next three years living with my brother and his family. In those dark times of uncertainty, I learned that each of us is a little piece of the puzzle, and when we are with the right people, and the right time, even the most horrific things seem manageable. I was able to be a big part of my other nephew and niece's lives, and spent those years exploring scratch cooking with them.