Broken Glass: A short story

One night, a drunk man tossed his empty beer bottle at the beach. The green glass bottle broke into many small pieces. Then the waves swept the broken glass into the sea…

Many years later, a little girl was strolling along the beach with her father. The little girl looked down at the wet sand, fascinated by the beautiful pebbles and seashells that the waves swept in.

Then, something bright and shiny caught her attention. She picked up a tiny piece of green glass and fingered its smooth edges. She held it against the morning light. As the rays of light shone through the glass, it glowed from within. The little girl was transfixed by the beautiful sight.

“Look daddy, it’s so pretty!” the little girl exclaimed quietly, awed.

“Let’s pick up some more then, shall we?”

So they walked on, scanning the beach for pieces of broken glass, stopping now and then to hold each piece up against the light.

When they got home, the little girl washed her precious collection of glass pieces and kept them in her treasure chest. She fingered them lovingly, often wondering where they came from, and what stories each piece would tell, if only they could speak.

One morning, the girl was lying beneath the skylight window in her house. As she watched the light stream in through the window, she suddenly had an idea.

She took out her collection of broken glass, taped a few pieces to a string carefully and held it up against the light. As the glass pieces twirled in the breeze, they caught the light at different angles and reflected the rays across the room. Inspired, the little girl started taping more glass pieces to strings of different lengths. Then she glued the strings across her skylight window, and watched them swayed gently in the breeze, gleaming as each piece caught the light. Moved by the beauty of what she had created, the girl ran to tell her father.

“Look what I just made daddy! Isn’t it lovely?”

“It is…wow. It’s beautiful”, replied her father, who was suddenly filled with love for his little girl as he looked at her, captivated by her childlike beauty. They stood there in silence for a few moments, the girl enraptured by her creation, and the father, by her.

A few days later, the little girl came home to find that one of the glass pieces had fallen from the string and had broke into two. She picked it up and cut herself. The part that had broken off was sharp, unlike the smooth edges all around that had been polished by the waves. She showed the broken glass to her father. He bandaged her finger and threw away the broken glass.

Many years passed. The little girl grew up and became a beautiful young woman. She left home to see the world. She looked for happiness in many places and people. At best, she found a fleeting shadow of what her heart was aching for. But most times, the people and places she loved broke her heart and left her feeling empty and used. Still, she did her best, often remembering the many lessons her father taught her during their long walks at the beach…

One night, she dreamt of her father. He was alone at the beach, bent over, as though he was searching for something in the sand. She watched from behind him. She called out to him, but he could not hear her. She shouted, louder. Still, he did not hear her. She watched helplessly as he got up slowly and walked away into the distance.

When she woke up, she decided to go home and look for her father.

It had been many years since she went home. Nervous, the woman pushed open the door and walked in. Her aged father was sitting under the skylight window, his back to her. He turned, as though expecting her, and motioned for her to come to him. She walked towards him quietly, fighting an impulse to cry, and sat down on the floor next to him.

Overhead, the glass pieces that the woman had made so many years ago were swaying gently in the breeze. Both father and daughter looked up in silence, watching the glass pieces glow in the light...

 “Do you remember this?” the father asked, pointing upwards.

The woman nodded, overwhelmed by a rising surge of emotions she could not understand.

“You were such a beautiful little girl. Look at you now, all grown up,” he said softly, putting his arm on her shoulder.

“Glass, though fragile, is indestructible. It’s been so long since you put this together, but each piece of glass is still the way it is when we first picked it up. Nothing has changed its essence, and nothing will. These pieces of glass will endure to eternity.

There can be such strength and permanence in fragility.

You used to wonder where these broken pieces of glass came from. I never told you because I felt you were too young to understand. I’ve always thought they came from broken beer bottles that people toss carelessly into the sea. Then the tide sweeps them into the sea, and the waves polish off each piece, finally washing them up at another beach hundreds of miles away.

What was once a piece of trash can become something so beautiful.

Remember how one piece of glass fell off and cut you with its sharp edges?

Broken glass, though beautiful, needs its sharp edges smoothed over by the loving caress of water over a long, long time. Beauty needs polishing, or else it can cut others who come close.

And look how radiant each piece of glass is when it catches the light. By itself, it is pretty to look at, but when the light shines through, it glows and radiates with a beauty that is almost heartbreaking.

It is the light that shines from within that makes all the difference.

And to catch the light, it’s got to stay still enough, and be brave enough to let the light enter deep into itself, trusting that what comes out will be so indescribably beautiful, and bring such joy to others.”

The woman rested her head on her father’s lap and wept. He stroked her hair gently. They sit there for a long time, silently, as the glowing glass pieces above dance in the gentle breeze.