Broken

This morning I picked up my porcelain doll from the chair where she sits and, with a clinking sound, the top of her head came off in 8 or 9 fragments. She had looked fine. Nobody could have carefully arranged the pieces to stay together so I must conclude she did not drop on the floor. Perhaps something fell on her head or she was hit by an idle broom or something.
I love that doll. I made her myself about 10 years ago. She is the size of a newborn baby and she's got a soft body which is very cuddleable.
I am hoping that with a bit of strong glue and a lot of patience I will be able to mend her and perhaps hide the cracks under her wig.

Aren't we all like that? We are broken. Circumstances which were beyond our control have worked together to break us in some way or other. Sometimes we can hide the cracks and we pretend we are whole but sometimes it is beyond hiding. We are surrounded by other broken people, all hiding their cracks and pretending till we think we are the only broken one.

It brings to mind a strange dream I had last night. I dreamt I had a baby boy who had fairly big ears. He also had the capacity to open his ears and one could see the earhole opening wider. His father didn't like his big ears and flicked him painfully around each ear and told him to stop opening his ears. Such a look of pain crossed that baby's face that it still brings tears to the back of my eyes. Then slowly and painfully he started retracting his ears into his head until there were no signs of an ear at all. I knew that he would never hear again for the rest of his life and he was only 6 months old. That was a broken baby.

They say that we are all the characters in our dreams. What does that say about me? Broken I know about but deaf?