I enjoy doing these, can you tell? Look for the other ones under the tag “creative writing”. Rory’s Story Cubes feature again as the plot triggers, simply because they’re so damned handy. I need another set. Dear Santa..
I’ve been a good girl this year, but I still lock my diary. Little sisters don’t need to look in here and parents shouldn’t. A girl’s gotta have a place that’s hers and hers alone. Even if it’s just a corner of her mind.
In art class today, Dougie and Max were horsing around and one of them knocked my ceramic troll off the work desk. I was almost done painting it, too. Mr. McKay shouted at the both of them but they just shrugged and wandered over to the storage lockers at the back of the room instead of doing their own projects. Probably stealing something.
Mr. McKay thought he’d be able to glue the troll back together and have it fixed by Monday so I can finish it. “Clean breaks,” he said. “The best kind. You won’t even see the damage once it’s glued.” I had my doubts, but he sounded confident. I was still mad at the guys though. Why do guys do that kind of stuff?
My neighbour, Mrs. Tanaka, was outside clipping dried flowers off her roses when I got home. I like her. She doesn’t speak English very well yet and is a bit shy but we get along all right. I pointed to a battered statue of the Buddha she kept by her lilies and explained what happened to my statue at school. She smiled and picked up the Buddha so I could have a closer look at it. The statue had been broken at some point and glued back together with a kind of golden filling in the cracks.
“This is art of kintsugi,” she said, choosing words with some care. “I fix and make better.” She put the statue down by the flowers again and went back to snipping the dried blooms away. “Is a way to remember what matters.”
We said our goodbyes but I think I heard her mumble, “Boys don’t matter” as I walked away.
I think on Monday I should see if Mr. McKay has heard of kintsugi.