The Glass Upon Which We Walk

I recently found a part of my past I thought I lost.

A simple, vintage perfume bottle.

You see, my grandmother used to be an antique dealer. I would visit her as a young child at work. I would climb the old, wood and creek-ridden steps to where she was and get lost among all the thousands of treasures just waiting to be plucked from their shelves and taken home.

Back then, I used to pick things like plastic toys that didn’t hold much value, but my grandmother always let me choose what made me happy.

She had the most beautiful spirit. She was always patient with me and always bestowed me with vintage valuables that I didn’t understand as a kid, but still treasured the same way I treasured my favorite teddy bear.

This perfume bottle she had given me, I found haphazardly sitting in a box, yet still perfectly intact. Seeing this after years evoked a reaction in me I hadn’t felt in a very long time – hope.

Hope for my own future and that I truly do get to cultivate, weave into the fabric of my life what I want out of it.

That it’s okay to dream, to evolve. That I should want adventures out of life and chase after the mental wanderlust I’ve felt far longer than I care to admit.

I’ve buried my own dreams for so long and told my inner child these things were no longer important, but in fact, they matter more than most things I tend to worry over.

A simple perfume bottle has held all of the possibilities for my life for years. It took rediscovering an object most people wouldn’t look twice at, to remind me what it is to dream, to create and to stop living as though I’m walking on glass.

Glass is meant to break. It is beautiful in its fragility. It gives us the illusion of protection, but it will eventually crack and shatter. It will fracture into a million pieces and we may walk upon its brokenness, but we don’t have to endure walking upon its pieces forever.

We can rebuild, we can dream, we can imagine for ourselves what it means to feel actually alive and not just going through the motions. We don’t have to keep looking down at the pieces figuring out how to repair what’s been broken for years – we can look up instead. Look up and keep moving forward and leave the pieces where they are. They will always be there if we choose to return, but maybe, for myself, it’s time to choose a different path.

My grandmother always encouraged my dreams – no matter how outlandish and I think it’s time I embrace my inner child, take a deep breath and begin again.

A look back at the past reminds me what the future can hold and for once, it’s liberating to think about. I’m going to spend the weekend clearing out the cobwebs that have crept in and make new space for all the possibilities.

I also need to find a special altar for this perfume bottle. My grandmother would be proud.

Until Then.

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