Mosaic

Author’s Note: I wrote this creative piece in response to chapters 1 through 3 in the novel, All Quiet on the Western Front, by Erich Remarque. I was inspired by the theme of growing from a child to an adult, and also by the theme of breaking to pieces. The novel depicts how our lives must break to pieces before we can become an adult, and in order to be a successful adult, we must be able to piece them back together. I was inspired by the quote, “The first bombardment showed us our mistake, and under it the world as they had taught it to us broke in pieces” (13). Those who can build a life off of a broken one truly understand themselves as a person, and therefore they are true adults.

Her hands methodically smoothed the circling clay as her foot relentlessly drummed on the petal down below. Teachers’ instructions swirled through her ears with graceful ease, and her mind reacted immediately, as if these blurbs of sound were manufactured in her own factory of a mind. Shaping and tapering, she altered its silhouette; stroking and caressing, she altered its texture; weeping and laughing, she altered its emotion. The process was grueling, but she worked patiently to finish her craft, her effort, her art. As the wheel decelerated in speed, her piece changed from a swirl of clay to a beautiful pot – one so carefully crafted that it could have passed as the teacher’s model. Lifting her clay ever so gently, she dutifully lugged it to the kiln, where it would be transformed from earthly material to gleaming art.

***

With every waking day, she anxiously rose from her bed, unable to contain her excitement. Racing to the calendar, her finger traced the endless days until her creation would be complete and her art – her soul, really – would make its debut in this world. When at last the day arrived, the woman walked briskly to the sunny studio, and her pursed lips sprouted and grew into a beaming smile. She imagined herself carelessly walking into the studio, tapping her toes and rolling her eyes as others received their ordinary pottery from the kiln. When her name was called, she would waltz gracefully to the teacher and gently stroke the silky side with her forefinger. Some would jealously gasp and glare as she carried her artwork back to her seat, others would stare in awe and praise her talent. But as she entered the threshold of the studio, her daydream was shattered into reality, as she stared her worktable, covered in broken pieces of pottery. Her teacher apologized, said that the kiln quite often proves to be to hot for some pottery to handle. As her mouth hung agape, she sorrowfully stared as her creation lay in ruins; her life seemed to break into pieces, just like her pot.

***

For weeks, she dreaded going home to a kitchen table infested with broken clay. As much ominous depression as it seemed to bring her, she couldn’t bring herself to part with these pieces of pottery – she had invested hours, sweat, and a part of her soul into them, they were a part of her. One day at work, a colleague of hers told an intriguing story about finding your inner self – how one must break the rules occasionally to truly understand who they are as a person. She laughed at this absurd prospect – her, breaking the rules? Never. She was a rule-follower and she intended to keep it that way, so she stashed the conversation into the back of her racing mind. But as she passed her kitchen table on the way to bed that night, something burst inside of her and she paused slightly, turning swiftly on her heel while a sunny smile rose onto her face.

***

The woman has a family now – a husband, two daughters, a son and a border collie, to be exact. They moved onto a farm in the country about three years ago, in order to get away from the hustle and bustle of the city. But one thing did not change from their old apartment to their new home: a grand mosaic still hangs above their glowing fireplace, depicting a gleaming sun rising from the earth.