Puzzles

Eliina used to keep a puzzle laid out, unfinished on our dining room table. The image springs to mind now, when I’ve got a dozen little half-hatched ideas related to The Neos (where potential runs rampant but time runs short): a stronger education program, a constant internet presence, an integrated fundraising plan, a mighty volunteer program. Plus a handful of life things that I want to learn: how to cook vegan desserts, how to develop the stamina to hike through the woods for days, how to play more than seven chords on the guitar, how to support myself financially with writing the kind of work I want to write. I feel like I’m sitting in a room full of dozens of half-finished puzzles. I picture the room like a library, paneled in wood, accented with brass lamps and busts of famous people, but there are no books — only puzzles. The puzzles sit like little drifting continents on deep shelves and long tables, nearly carpeting the floor, all the pieces mixed up. I sit in the center in a worn leather swivel chair, spinning to the right and to the left, putting a piece in here or there, mostly wondering what to do next.

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