Slowly, I am filling these cracks in this pot. With a stronger more beautiful substance. I keep the old pot because I love it. For all the things it has held. For all the holding it still has to do.
These cracks can only enhance it. My scars and wrinkles and freckles can only enhance me.
Embrace them, hold them dear, for a thing with no imperfections is a thing with no history, no memories attached. What is a vintage item in perfect condition but something left at the back of an over-shopper's cupboard, forgotten forever. Love and mend your things.
Like cast iron pans and recipes and books, and music and wine, they get better with age and sharing.
I cut my hair tonight with paper scissors.