I thought about the puzzle Dad and I had done, years back. The one with the gummed-up, crooked piece. That puzzle would never be perfect. It would never be exactly what I’d envisioned it to be. But it was still a finished puzzle, with every piece stitched together, just the way it was supposed to be. I would put the final piece into place. Imperfect. Flawed but complete. And then, finally… A new puzzle could begin.
