Gather Up the Pieces

This is a sappy post.  You've been warned.  Turn away now if you're just not in the mood.

I'm sure, at one time or another, we've all picked a dandelion and blown at the seeds to see them fly away.  It's exciting to see the little seeds drift in all different directions and just kind of disappear.  Most of us outgrow this fascination once we are responsible for taking care of our own lawn.  

I don't have a lot of friends.  Let me qualify that statement by saying that I know a lot of lovely people and like them a lot.  I know a lot of people that would be helpful to me in any way I might need.  I'm thankful for these people in my life.  When I say I don't have a lot of friends, I'm talking about those rare people that you give a piece of yourself to, thinking they can be trusted to keep and care for it.

I think I come across to most people as being a bit hard and cynical.  In many ways, I am.  Those that know me the best know that I'm actually a tangled mess of emotions.  I care deeply and cautiously.  When I decide to give you a piece of my heart, you have it for life.  

I started handing out little pieces of myself very young.  Family, of course, were the first ones I trusted with a part of me.  There was my first best friend.  He and his dad both still hold a special place in my heart.  Then there were the families that my family spent weekend nights visiting, Sunday mornings in pews together, and Sunday afternoons sharing lunch with. (By the way, I do know that sentences shouldn't end with prepositions, but that's how I talk, so get over it.)  That first boy in class to catch my eye, back in first grade.  The first girl that invited me for a sleepover in second grade.  The girl that would become my closest friend and confidant for years to come.  The first boy I kissed in a game of Truth or Dare.  The first boy I kissed to be kissing.  The little girl that once asked if I could be her real mommy and broke my heart.  The little boy that would crawl up in my teenage lap at church and sit so quietly.  They all took pieces of various sizes. The list goes on and on and on...

Now, here I sit wondering where all of these little pieces of me are.  I often feel like the dandelion stem, stripped of its seeds and tossed aside, nothing left to give.  I've sent all of these little pieces out onto the wind and so few remain close. I wish I could gather up all of the little pieces and ask each one, "What did I bring to you?  Is there any value left in the piece you took with you?"  We all know the dandelion can't be stitched back together, though.  Be cautious when choosing who you give those precious pieces of yourself to.  Find the ones that will still be near when you're old and feeling particularly lonely.  The best ones always come back around and never go too far, but they are rare, indeed.