Can Gorilla Super Glue Hold My Life Together?

Check it out at gorillatough.com.

The graceful pink ballerina has been dancing
on our Christmas trees for 17 years.

Where do I begin? Since February 5, 2010, I've blogged here daily, or even more frequently. This is published post number 2,624. I've blogged about fears, struggles, capsules of happiness. About cupcakes and chocolate and, eventually, the quest to keep them in check. About writing and cooking and mothering. The seashore on the Cape, coastal towns in Maine. About our family losing my good Dad, and gaining rambunctious Punchy, the foster child who returned to live with us the very night that we dropped Figgy off at college in August 2013; we were empty nesters for under 10 hours until the little brunette, age 6 1/2, rejoined us.

But this past week, what should have been the pure white snowy peak of Christmastime, I was silent. I blogged one dreary word on December 24 and a photo and a sentence on December 27.

That is about to change.

I can't write about what happened, not now, not yet, maybe not ever. Sorry to be mysterious; that must be frustrating to you, the reader. But I can only bare so much of my soul in this public space.

But I can blog about some precious things that H. has mended over the last week, using Gorilla Super Glue to put all the pieces back together again. [The question is, can that glue work for life, for reattaching and reinforcing family relationships? Can it gloss over the darkest nightmare of your life?]

1. Figgy's beautiful pink blown-glass ballerina ornament from Bergdorf Goodman. The piece of lined notebook paper attached to the tag says, ANNIE/I love you/Santa and on the other side, Annie, 1999, age 4. Mrs. Claus thought/hoped then that she would have more children, and so her first baby's ornaments would have to be marked. You see, Santa gave Figgy and then later, Punchy, an ornament every Christmas, hanging them on the tree, whether we were at home or up in Maine at Uncle Mike's, Uncle John's or Aunt Eileen's or one year, down in Florida at Mary Jane's.* Oh, the parade of ornaments, from a porcelain angel snagged on Christmas Eve in Maine to a tiny Hallmark baby in a white bassinet, for Punchy. The ballerina has fallen off the boughs and broken several times, but H. has somehow always managed to repair her, using Play-Doh to stick the delicate legs back on and Gorilla Super Glue for the rest. She is pictured above on the tree this year, having survived ornament hospital [on the kitchen table] after our entire decorated tree independently toppled to the floor with a crash one night. We had to secure it by tying a piece of string on a bough and fastening it to a small nail on the wall.   
2. Punchy's little red Elf on the Shelf ornament from a couple years back.
3. A classic pale blue and white Wedgwood snowflake hung on white satin ribbon--Sis got it for us on a trip to London one year. 
4. The slender white Christmas angel figurine on my dresser.
5. The antique blue and white china pottery jar filled with our kitchen utensils. It says Hominy on it, and I bought it on a trip to an auction with my friend Anne. A piece of the bottom broke off. Gorilla Super Glue to the rescue.

And last year, when we returned home from Christmas in Maine, my cherished vintage Santa tray fell in the street and broke. H. also glued that back together.

I am grateful for those fixes, for preserving beauty, for taking something broken and making it whole again--and for getting to 8 a.m. yoga class, attending my support group and taking a long hot bath. Also for playing school for an hour or more with Punch [she is a great teacher], raking and bagging dead leaves out front, sampling H.'s homemade latkes, playing with the adorable realistic baby doll Santa brought Punchy and beginning a conversation with Figgy, as truncated and mired in hurt and resentment as it was and will be for both of us now.

I am not at the festive and lavish neighborhood party tonight, but H., Punchy and the latkes went--along with applesauce and sour cream. Figgy is out with friends. I was not up to mingling. It is 11:15 a.m. and I hear fireworks going off outside.

Good night, God bless us everyone in 2017.

*Santa did not get the girls ornaments this year. That is the kind of Christmas this was. May the lights go on next year.