Heartbreak

"In one life, how many times can the heart break?" from "Moaning About My White Hair" by Chinese poet Wang Wei.

I asked the women in my writing group to write something about this. Here is what I wrote.

These days my heart breaks wide open at least once a day. I feel less sure of everything. Less sure than when I was 11 and could ride my bike fearlessly to the edges of my small town, less sure than when I was 17 and so in love I walked effortlessly without the pull of gravity on my feet, less sure than when I was 25 and immersed in the heady belief that logic could save me. Now, I walk upon fragile ground. I slip and slide on the ice and feel sadness, and contentment, and joy all in the same moment. Its strange in the same way that the Thai soup that I love startles me with heat, sweetness, and a sour bite. Success is measure by breaths deeply taken, in thin moments of gratitude for a good meal, ease on my husband's face, a spine that still bends backwards. I am in awe at how much joy there is to be had in the dog's soft red fur and the suffering that is ours alone to make sense of. A veil has been parted, the onion peeled, the world is less apparent than it has ever been, my imagination more real.