In spite of my best efforts to protect my few fragile items of decor, life is rough on them in a home with two rambunctious little boys. My Willow Tree figurine | This lump of plaster doesn't seem to care that she's maimed and at least one of her "happy" little friends has found a final perch on her arms. She stands in her |
entitled "Happiness" is one of those things that hasn't faired so well. She stands with face to the wind, hands outstretched, and birds alighting on her arms. I noticed recently that every one of the three birds had broken wings, and that "Happiness" was missing a hand. Naturally. | careless, free expression, hair and dress still blowing in the wind, sightless face upturned to the light. And I love her for it. I love her for reminding me that happiness is a heart thing, that it's more valuable when well-seasoned, that it doesn't need to be limited by hardship. That in pain, it shines brighter. |