5,000 Fragments of Life

The official name is The Mercata, but when the snow begins to fall, I often refer to it as My Sanity. Admittedly, I do tend to be a bit dramatic the precise moment the world turns white.

However, to be accurate, the Mercata is a Mecca of underground shopping, dining, yoga and beauty salons located directly below the Village where I now abide. I discovered it shortly after my arrival in Michigan, but I didn’t totally understand the degree of its importance until later that year when the Michigan winter and claustrophobia arrived simultaneously.

The length of this underground shopping wonderland is almost, but not quite, one mile. Currently, I keep a standing Thursday morning appointment with Trevor, a hair stylist extraordinaire, whose shop is at the far end of the Mercata.

And to be absolutely honest, when I have walked midway down the corridor and completed approximately half the mile, I stop. I could pretend that I am checking my email or getting an unexpected cellphone call, but that would not be truthful. I stop because it is a long walk, and I need a brief rest. Consequently, each Thursday morning, I sit on the same wooden bench and face the identical display.

Directly opposite my bench and resting on a small easel is a 5000 piece puzzle, Each week as I stare directly at it, I try to remember the last time I attempted to put so many pieces together. However, this week when I gazed at the intricate tiny pieces that formed the final picture, I reflected instead about the many minute and diverse fragments of my life.

I remembered all those amazing pilgrims whose presence had even briefly touched mine during this amazing journey. I quickly estimate that they number far more than the 5000 puzzle pieces. Then I briefly revisit the diverse magnitude of events in my life, both good and bad; some happy beyond description; others too sad to enumerate. Surprises, both memorable and joyous; others, on occasion, bittersweet and melancholy.

5000 sounds like an unfathomable number until you dwell on how much has transpired that you can remember. Then you honestly, admit, there are even more moments you have opted to forget.

The finished picture sitting on the easel is lovely depicting a calm untroubled horizon. Perhaps it might also symbolize the demeanor some of us wear as a shield denying access to our inner being. Consequently, we refuse uninvited witnesses to view the roller coaster of emotions that contributed to our now preferred facade of calm. While 5000 pieces of a puzzle were assembled to accomplish such a tranquil picture, I cannot begin to estimate how many fragments of life combined to allow me to reach today’s precise juncture. Many, alas, I have chosen to forget.

Suddenly I recall the time and know it is time to complete today’s journey. As I resume the final segment of my Thursday walk, I realize the Mercato offers far more than interesting shops and restaurants. This week It also provided an unexpected focus on an almost forgotten Memory Lane