29/12/2024
Weekly Story
Puzzle Pieces
By Nyx Martinez
When everyone sets off fireworks at midnight on New Year’s Eve, do you celebrate in vibrant cheer? Or does the clock’s chime bring a kind of melancholy as you silently ponder the future? As the shouts “Happy New Year” ring out, is it a joyful moment for you? Or is it tinged with anxiety about the future?
Last year, it was all a little hazy to me. We wished each other the best with the usual buzz of a New Year’s celebration, but as I tossed in my bed later, I wondered what was in store for me.
I was excited about many future prospects; I knew that change was in the air. I was on a high and a low at the same time, and while on the verge of making decisions, couldn’t quite come to any.
The following days of uncertainty stretched into a week, then two. I pondered, procrastinated, and prayed. A lot. To no avail.
Then one day, a package arrived in the mail. Along with clothes and chocolates, my aunt had sent me a child’s puzzle.
Amused, I laid it aside to give to my little brother.
When four-year-old RJ saw it, he excitedly took the box into another room to open it. Soon, though, he was back—and he was in a frenzy.
“The puzzle has no picture!” he exclaimed. “You have to draw the picture!”
“What?”
“The puzzle has no picture!” RJ repeated.
Looking closer, I realized it was one of those do-it-yourself puzzles, and so, at RJ’s insistence, I drew a picture on the not-yet-disassembled puzzle. He was overjoyed.
Just when I thought he would leave me alone, RJ said, “Now you have to help me do it!”
He scattered the pieces on the floor, raked them into a pile, spread them out again, and sat there, arms crossed, cheerfully confident that I would do the work for him.
I hesitated but eventually gave in. “Okay, we’ll do it together,” I said. “It’s easy!”
I had intended for RJ to color the picture before he took the puzzle apart, but he hadn’t. The pieces were a mess of black and white lines that didn’t seem to fit together. But RJ wouldn’t be deterred.
I showed him how to find the corner pieces first, then the edges, and then to hunt for pieces where elements of the picture were recognizable—eyepieces over here with nose pieces, leaf pieces with flower pieces, etc.
Bit by bit, it started to come together.
I watched as RJ slowly found and fitted each puzzle piece into its proper place. He sometimes shook his head in frustration. Other times he threw up his hands in exasperation
and said aloud, “Aw, that doesn’t go here!”
Each time he was convinced there was something wrong with the puzzle itself. Time and again I had to reassure him that the pieces would indeed all fit together once he had each one in the right place.
“It’s all part of the same picture,” I would say. “We just need to find where it goes.”
It took a half hour before the picture of a cat playing in a garden was completed, but when it finally was, a look of smug satisfaction spread across RJ’s face.
I was smiling too because right then I understood that I was like a little child, trying to sort out the puzzle pieces of my life, getting confused and frustrated, wanting to say I couldn’t do it.
All those pieces are part of the same puzzle, whispered a gentle inner voice. We just need to find where they go.
There I was, trying to get rid of parts that didn’t seem to make sense, crying out in a fit of frustration that I didn’t know what went where, when all the while that inner voice wanted to reassure me that it was going to be okay, that all the pieces would come together. It would take time, and I would have to be patient, but when all the pieces finally fall into place, I too will smile with satisfaction.
And that’s just what happened. A few days before I sat down to write this story the pieces all came together.
Today I look at the puzzle of the next year and I am excited! Things are already beginning to fall into place. I’m sorting the corners and the edges. I’m seeing something unfold before my eyes. I have learned that all the pieces are needed.
And yes, it’s going to be a beautiful picture.