The leaf was there in my wiper blades for months. Through rain (didn't drive much during the rainy days, but still used to blade quite a bit to clear the spring pollen), through freeway jaunts up and down the peninsula, past the Golden Gate and all around the city…
A spiky scrub oak leaf.
Hanging out, hanging on.
I ignored it for a few weeks and figured that eventually a strong gust would take it.
After about a month and a half I was wonder-struck by it and
thought it to be good luck.
At eight weeks I was slapped with the beautiful realization
that I was witnessing grace and tenacity,
taught by a fucking LEAF in my wiper blade.
I took it out and gave it a perfect roll, the perfect rest.
Now for the pink sapphire:
I bought it at an antique store. It was badly broken on its sides (which I fixed with my lapidary equipment) and marred on its top near the apex of the perfectly clear star (which I did not fix on account of that perfect star).
Sapphires are a nine on the Mohs scale, right behind diamonds.
They are HARD.
Whatever it took to break that sapphire and chip its top curve was strong.
And yet, here it is, singing
a perfectly imperfect song
I am going to put this stunning marriage into the metal shop later this week.
I want you to think good and hard about the magic in these parts,
about the power of the whole.
Even if it's just through these stories,
I want you to take heart.
I want you to fall into their tenacity and be lifted.
By a rock and a leaf.
You can call me batshit crazy, but every time I look at these two
I feel a bit better about this world, this life.
They are small and meek but ridiculously mighty.
The mirror image is going to someone I love who embodies
their power and then some, so there will only be one of these in the shop.
Here's to the beauty of tenacity, to a beautiful day.