Mending broken hearts

I am busy for the past week working on a commission of ceramic hearts, dainty little pieces that are as fragile and breakable as the real thing. I am not sure whether this is extremely appropriate for me at present or whether it is so horribly inappropriate that it is beyond thinking about as I have been, of late, it feels , rather over occupied with damaged broken and slightly chipped hearts whose owners have been washed up at my door, or wail down the telephone in sobs, the flotsam and jetsam of stormy relationships, sudden squalls and all destroying tempests that have battered their fragile beings on the rough waters of the sea of love. ( So mills and Boon! ) Appropriate or not I am not in the mood for doves ,hearts and flowers which makes these pieces rather hard to finish, hence I am here blogging when I should be glazing instead. I may even stoop to putting the washing out soon , anything rather than paint another heart when my heart aint in it.

I am a dab hand at curing slightly bruised young heart mended easily with a hug and a large hot chocolate and a stirring lecture about there being plenty more fish in the sea. Even thoguh I may so myself I am also passibly succesful when it comes to a slightly more damaged one which has been subjected to far too many unkindly knocks for its age and is just getting back on its feet after a long struggle to mend and beat in hope again . But currently I am labouring over one so damaged that I really am not sure that there are enough pieces left intact or in fact whether there is enough vinegar and brown paper in the world to mend it. An old heart past its first bloom which I know over the years has rallied against all odds to crest each wave of betrayal and upset only to find now like a long distance swimmer it isn't sure it has the energy to go forwards and is in fact just treading water and bowing to the inevitable that this time if theie marraige goes under they may well not come up again. That is perhaps the hardest of all to fix. How after all those years does its owner decide enough is enough ? When do they draw the line and say they are worth more than that and that being alone may perhaps be better than loneliness within a relationship where they feel unloved. Who am I to say? Faced with that what advise can I give ? So I say nothing but carry on nodding giving tissues and looking as if I understand their pain, which I do more than they imagine.

I would not have said that I am the most kindly and gentle of women and yet I am the one to whom friends come to in tears or anger, to complain, to seek sympathy and a hug, the one who will soothe and pour balm on wounds, whose advise friends seek in the matter of vile wandering husbands and unruly lovers. As such I am their the port in the storm, the firm rock on which to lean whilst they get they breath, and in a bizzarre way it is quite satisfying feeling one has helped soothe a pain, redress a balance ,when I see them go away with a bit more spring in their step and sparkle in their eyes, a bit more confidence in themselves and the fac that they are loveable. But just as you expect your doctor to at least pretend always be healthy and not tell you about his bunions or constipation so I am barred by definition of that role from ever admitting that at times I too might need a bit of the same. So whilst I phone to check on progress, sigh in sympathy, pat hands and boil the kettle for all they know my own heart might well be ,slowly, bit by bit ,falling apart too . Would they notice? I suspect not, meanwhile like the priest in the confessional I take all on board and listen unjudgmental to the tales of " It just happened it didn't mean anything etc etc" and am sworn to keep my secrets.

Ah well back to the hearts, spring is ,as they say in the air and I can only hope that hearts and that the young and not so young men who at this season traditionally turn to love do so with some prior thought to their actions and the consequences thereof and realise that some of them are at least old enough to know better. I have enough on my plate thank you very much.