My mother has given me a broken table. It’s not as bad as it sounds… it was one we grew up with, inherited from my grandmother. Something always present and dependable, as tables are, until it wasn’t… New Years Eve and one of the three legs spit, depositing everything onto the floor.
On closer inspection, it had form for this crime: whilst none of us had noticed before, the leg was splinted from a previous break, and the old glue had finally given way. Or maybe the pear wood, which must be a hundred years old, simply decided that enough was enough.
Anyway: I’m going to patch it up. Either bracing and gluing the old leg, or maybe updating it with some new ones. I’m undecided, but I think it has life in it yet.
Some things we throw away, some we repair, and others we adapt.
Use your sixty seconds today to think of something you have repaired - or that needs to be repaired.
A story, an idea, a process, a relationship, a machine, a purpose?
When do we invest the time to make things better, or do we simply write them off and leave them behind?