Broken … And Fixed

It started with a fight.
We argued, shouted, sweared, and called each other names.
I stomped up to the attic.
My face flushed and teary-eyed in a fit of rage.

I somehow had to end this.
The only way to save myself was to conciously separate.
This relationship that I cherished,
A year later, had become stale.

Just then, my eyes fell on a wooden chest.
It was an old one made of wood and nails.
I mindlessly opened it,
Rummaging through the bric-a-brac it contained.

Suddenly, I found myself holding my dolly.
She was small, with a blue dress and a pink face.
Her arms were covered by bell sleeves,
But they were held to her body with tape.

There was an inundation of memories.
Decades ago, my friend and I were engrossed in play.
This dolly was one of my favorites,
And when we both grabbed it together, her arms gave way.

We tried to play with her.
But then decided it was useless and to throw her away.
Just then, my grandmother walked in.
She took one look at the dolly and shook her head.

With scissors, tape, and, in fifteen minutes,
My little dolly was ready to play with again.
“When something is broken, look for ways to fix it.”
Her words echoed in my mind at that very moment.

All of a sudden, I felt like a bulb had been lit.
Yes, there was anger, frustration, and rage,
But, I was going to try and save this relationship
I walked out of the attic, ready to calmly explain what I felt.