Pick Up the Pieces

Photo is mine

Hello, friends. 

When I say jigsaw puzzle, you say...

Old folks home? 
Rainy day? 
Vexing? 
Relaxing? 

I never liked puzzles before Covid.  There was no immediate gratification. There were always more interesting things to do. 

And then we were trapped in our homes.  And the wonderful shopkeeper of Chelsea Dry Goods started posting on Facebook.  Photos of puzzles.  Lots of them.  And the offer of drop off service.  For puzzles!

I bought them at first to support her business. And to give us something to do. I bought three.  Then three more.  And then four.  Since the order came down to stay home and stay safe, Tom and I have put together seven 1,000 piece puzzles.  Puzzles of Manhattan and of Yankee Stadium.  Puzzles of birds, and cannabis leaves.  Puzzles of abstract art and antique seed packets. 

We generally start on Saturday morning, opening the box, spilling out the pieces, putting them all face up.  Then we sort the edges, and build the frame (generally my job).   The puzzle occupies our dining room table all week long. No meals are eaten there.  We dip in and out -- sometimes together, often apart --finding a few moments here and there to assemble what we can. 

The thing I've learned about puzzles is that the challenge comes in waves: first there is the border, and then the chaos of too many loose pieces.  Then there is the first gathering of pieces that come together with the promise of more.  And then the pieces that lie there taunting you.  And then, the joy when you manage to connect one side of the puzzle to another.  And then the weight of how much is left to build.  Finally, as the process comes to an end, the picture comes together.  Matte or shiny, 1,000 pieces gloriously bound together in one moment captured in time. 

When Tom and I build the puzzle together, we generally don't talk. It's companionable, but silent.  An occasional, "Gotcha" and lots of leaning over and rearranging.  When we build apart, we find time to stop by each other's work spaces and share the triumph of another step completed.  Sometimes it's competitive. Other times it's collegial.

I texted my sister our latest puzzle in progress.  She immediately replied. "That would frustrate the f*#k out of me."

Thing is, I would have felt the same way two months ago.  I would rather take a walk, or binge watch a show, or start a new book.  But now when I walk, I duck from side to side on the street to avoid others.  And I seem uninspired to watch much tv.  And reading is impossible. 

So why puzzles? Why now? 

I think it is because when we get a puzzle it is in pieces.  A mess.  The cover of the box reminds us of what it looked like when it was first painted or photographed or illustrated.   But it doesn't look like that any more.  But if you take the time, and work steadily, one piece at a time, the image reforms.  It doesn't look exactly the same.  The fissures from the puzzle pieces remain.  The shadows catch these edges and blur the image a bit.  But there is satisfaction and gratification when we are done. 

I think I like puzzles now because I can make things whole again, or almost so.  I can put the pieces back together.  I can fix what is broken.

I have no control over so much of my life right now, but a puzzle is one thing that reminds me to keep my eye on the prize

.  On what comes next.  And it reminds me to take it one piece at a time. 

Talk to you next week,
Laurie