Belonging

I walked across the echoing, tiled floor over to the wooden cupboard. Reaching over to the back of it, I pulled it away from the sage green wall and closer to me. I glanced down to the floor and saw it. I reached my arms down and grasped my hands around the sides of the rectangular cardboard box, lifting it up and placing it onto the stone counter to the right of me. I pushed back the wooden cupboard to where it had originally been and walked over to the box.

The dark blue colouring of the cardboard stared up at me as I peered down at the image plastered across the lid. I lifted it up and shook the box so that the bottom landed with a clatter on the counter underneath. The puzzle pieces inside were strewn across the box in a messy arrangement. I took the bottom of it and placed it onto the table, the scraping sound of a chair being heard as I sat down. 

I separated the edges from the normal pieces and put them into different boxes, getting prepared to do the outer rim of the puzzle. I flipped over each of the small cardboard shapes and looked at the colours, trying to decipher which shade matched which shade. 

After thirty minutes, I looked down proudly at my work, successfully having managed to fully complete the upper half of the puzzle edges; I began to then work on the bottom half. One puzzle piece joined to another, then steering away from it because I saw two other pieces that fit and ended up realising that those separate pieces I joined actually work together. 20 minutes passed and I found myself having finished the border and moved on to finding colours that match for the inside. Not blue? Goes into the box. Found a blue piece? Goes onto the puzzle board. 

After however many moments of time had passed, I began to yawn and feel my eyes grow heavy over my eyes. Pulling the cover over the puzzle I had ⅕ of the way completed, I trudged upstairs and went to sleep.

—

Everyday I devoted more and more time to it and as I devoted more and more time to it, it only grew harder and harder. Days had passed and those days turned into weeks. Those weeks turned into a month. A MONTH! I spent one month of my life committed to completing the puzzle and I still had a few more pieces to add in. I collected them together and ogled at the sight - I had five pieces. It shouldn’t be too hard to finish now. 

One piece fitted at the top right. Four to go.

Another piece fitted at the bottom left. Three to go.

Yet another piece fitted at the middle right. Two to go.

The penultimate piece fitted at the middle left. One to go.

I picked it up gently as if it were as delicate as glass and lowered my hand, beginning to fit it into place. I began to press it in with my hand but it didn’t match. I spun it around. It didn’t work. I spun it again; and again but it still didn’t fit. This has got to be a joke. This solitary piece left doesn’t fit in the only spot left. I shook the box, hoping to find an extra piece but to no avail. I sighed and decided to try it again tomorrow, going upstairs to sleep.

—

The next morning I bolted downstairs, hoping it would finally fit in…

But it didn’t.

I tried it every which way and it still didn’t lay correctly. Morale low, I looked under the wooden table, lifted up the puzzle board (careful to not drop the actual puzzle, of course) and even behind the cupboard hoping to see an extra piece. Alas, I found nothing.
Days passed. Weeks passed. The puzzle on my table began to collect dust as I woefully stared at it, hoping that one day I would be able to have the picture perfect. 

After a few more weeks, I gave up. This was it. It wasn’t going to fit and I had to accept it. I carefully slid the image off of the puzzle board and into the box, trying not to break it. Smiling sadly at the uncompleted puzzle, I closed the dark blue lid and let it drop down to the back of the cupboard. 

—

A year later, I walked across the echoing, tiled floor over to the wooden cupboard. Reaching over to the back of it, I pulled it away from the sage green wall and closer to me. I glanced down to the floor and saw it. The familiar deep blue cardboard box that I had unforgettably never completed. I leaned down and clasped my hands around the ripped edges. I raised the box and placed it gently onto the wooden table - letting the cupboard fall back into place by itself. I shook off the lid carefully and revealed the fully together puzzle, except for the middle piece. The missing piece. 

I left the image itself in the box, but took the one separate piece into my fingers. Spinning it around in between my thumb and index finger, I ogled at it, wondering how one miniature piece of cardboard can cause so much exasperation. Sighing, I tried one last time to place it in the middle. Jaw dropping, breathtakingly, astonishingly…

It fits. I couldn’t believe it - the puzzle was finally complete. Gaping at it in awe, I didn’t fully understand how it hadn’t fit before but feeling grateful that it did nonetheless. 

No matter how long it took, the piece finally fit.

 It’s the journey that matters the most.