Hole Heart

Before I update you of my current life’s happenings, it is important to share this very moment with you: the happening right now. I arrived home not too long ago this afternoon from a fun morning of fat biking with a very special group (and more on that later). I’m getting undressed out of my layers of biking clothes just now, and as I peeled off my “outer shell” black cycling pants, I decided today would be the day to sew a small hole near my left knee that occurred at about this same time last year.

I have not repaired it. I did not want to take the few minutes it would take to fix it out of sheer-protest of one more thing to do. This hole was added to an already very long list in my mind of broken and unfinished things. Now a whole year has passed, and in that time, it surprisingly didn’t seem to grow any larger. However, every time I wear these pants, I slip my finger in this hole, almost tempting it to blow-out completely.

Today is different. Today’s the day. I’m going to sew it, and just now I’ve sat on my bedroom floor in a state of half-undress, my back leaning-up against an unmade bed, my tiny sewing box opened next to me and needle and thread ready: it’s time to inspect this hole and decide how best to close it up.

I’ve turned the pants inside-out, my left hand, palm-up, slides inside the pant leg finding that familiar hole, which now seems to fit, perfectly-balanced, on the tip of my middle finger. I’m amazed at what I see: a beautiful, unexpected heart.

I find myself suddenly in tears, but smiling, thinking this is one more heart added to so many, amazed that these hearts just seem to keep coming in to my view. I’m not sure if I find them, or they find me, but I’m thankful for this one. This one today is particularly unique, knowing it’s been with me for an entire year. When I’m wearing these cycling pants, the hole is more of a stretched blob shape, conspicuous, but certainly not ever seen as heart-shaped.

Is this a reminder that love is always, in fact, with me? Or, is it more confirmation that I can’t see things as they are right in front of me? Could it be a simple matter of looking at something in a different or new way to understand or see clearly? Nothing is simple, and this is me I’m talking about, so nothing is really understood or clear, either. So many times, I’ve wondered and questioned about love itself: I had it fully with Jon, then he died, and love left when he did. I have no expectation of it ever truly returning to me in any form.

The only thing I expect right now, is finally mending the hole in these pants. A hot shower is also much-needed as soon as possible, so my incentive is on to get this sewing done. Even when I sew this hole shut and my finger can’t poke and stretch it open again, I’m sure my fingertips will instinctively find the raised, welted lines of my little sewing repair.

I like the idea of it becoming a repaired heart, even though I may not ever have one. After it’s sewn shut, it will be okay if others can’t see a “hole heart” or remember, or have knowledge, there was one torn in the first place. I’m not bothered if it’s not quite in the usual shape of what you’d call “a normal heart.” A repaired heart is something new and not the same as it once was, very few might recognize it. My knowing it’s there and I can feel it, whether my eyes are open or closed, is most important, “seeing it” just as it is. ~Paula ❤️

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