A few hours before I was rear-ended in a car accident on May 4, I took these photos of old, iron-corroded bars on a walkway above Puget Sound. I snapped them because I loved the unexpected beauty of the thick encrustations left by salt water, loved the coppery color of the bars.
A week after the accident—a lost week because I had too much brain fog and pain to write or read, a lost week because my mind and imagination felt like a stagnant pond—I looked at the pictures. This time, what I saw was the liveliness of the water churning beyond the bars.
I feel hopeful that the liveliness of my mind and imagination will return to me soon
I feel comforted. Even if my brain and body suffer from injury, they will--like the bars--still endure, made more beautiful by the pounding waves and the salt air.
LORE OF THE BELL:
What Holds Us Back Can Make us More Beautiful