Puzzled Pieces

Six pieces, 12 pieces, 50 pieces, or 500… puzzles. Growing up, much like now, I had no patience, none. This lack of longsuffering was accentuated when I was left with the task of tackling a time-old jigsaw puzzle. The concept in itself seemed ignorant; “Hey, let’s paint a pretty picture and cut it up so people are forced to put it all back together.” Oh please! Give me Scrabble, give me a crossword, or give me Jeopardy, but PUH-LEASE do not give me your jumbled pile of mess. Fortunately for my ego, I had a solution for these nuisances much like the fixer-upper’s I retain for most of my problems today; I shoved the pieces together until they fit together to make a not-quite-as-pretty-picture when compared to the intended image. In a world where 101 Dalmations evolved into a polka dot collage, Princess Belle’s dress transformed into mushroom-shaped sunset, and lush mountainside morphed into an array of green camoflauge, I was perfectly content with the pieces not fitting and the new and self-deemed “improved” illustration. Another character flaw I quickly developed was hoarding. My family is serving me a terrible injustice by not admitting me to an asylum or at least giving me a shot at fame and calling that brain numbing show, Hoarders. Nonetheless, here I am, still picking up little pieces and refusing to let them go. I started out with a cute little fanny pack (Thank you, Anna, for making it Louis) and it has evolved over the years into something you might see carried by the likes of Mary Poppins. I started with a few pieces, but as time progress and I got a new puzzle, I kept the old pieces too which elicited the need for a bigger bag. Sit down at your kitchen table, pull out every puzzle you’ve ever owned, throw in a few pieces you’ve acquired here and there, and conduct a little inspection. When you keep every single piece, they just don’t fit. In fact, when you don’t do away with the old before you bring in the new, you end up with a bigger mess than when you first started. One puzzle is challenging enough. You have to twist and turn, compromise, meet in the middle, and albeit stick places that don’t always seem the most coveted in the midst of the construction. It becomes even more a shack of shambles when the repertoire of pieces is a collection of all our ‘puzzles.’ We can’t successfully push things together that aren’t meant to be, regardless how hard we try. We can hope and dream, we can even pray, but we can’t change the pieces, not even one measly little piece. We can’t bend it, break it, cut it, or alter it any way. Instead, we must come to the realization that many times, the pieces quite simply don’t fit and even more mind boggling, it’s even more difficult to find the perfect piece when we’re hoarding all the pieces to every puzzle. Pink and red. Sooners and Longhorns. Beer and liquor. White & Fall. French fries & running. Cowboys & Redskins. Amber & her ex boyfriend. Socks & sandals. Texas Tech girls and negative pregnancy tests. When you start with the wrong pieces, nothing fits.