The Sound of Things Falling

There was a crash. And then the discovery of a large picture fallen to the foyer floor and glass everywhere.

That’s the second picture to fall off the wall in as many days.

This one was a big, framed poster from a museum in Washington, D.C. Before it was hung on the hook from which it fell, a hundred-year-old wood framed mirror had hung from the very same hook for forty-two years.

We didn’t put the mirror back up after the replastering and repainting because its hanging wire had come undone, so we went for a bit of color to liven things up.

Now, the wall is barren, without a mirror or a striking poster or even the hook from which both of them hung. It’s as if they were never there.

The first picture to fall was a beloved photo of three of our kids in a hammock in the Upper Peninsula. When we attempted to rescue the photo from the frame, we saw it had become one with the glass so the only option to save the image was to take a picture of the picture in all its brokenness.

Oh well.

In between the breakages, I saw the obituary for a beloved community leader. But there was also a walk with the dogs and plans made for tomorrow.

Stuff just happens. It’s not a sign of anything except the hooks in the walls had just worn themselves out. Which is some kind of little allegory if you want to twist yourself into a knot about it. Which I might on a different day but not today.