From one wall to another, the street is lined with outstanding sights, each depicting a different story with designs equally compelling. However, it’s at the end of this vibrant stretch that I find my dad, wholly engrossed in a particular artwork. His eyes remain fixated on the canvas, as if he is piecing together a puzzle. Leaning slightly forward, he becomes fully immersed in the painting’s narrative. As I approach him, I notice his gaze trace the broken pieces of glass, exploring every detail and color variation.
I look at the piece of art. It’s a mosaic of San Francisco, capturing the city’s radiant sun, iconic skyline, and lively flora. Aware of my dad’s artistic talents and his tendency to approach art with a sense of confidence, I ask if he thinks he can recreate it. Surprisingly, this time, my dad nods, breaking his usual self-assured demeanor. He explains that this artwork is truly one-of-a-kind, a unique creation that cannot be replicated. Each piece of glass or stone is broken at random, it would be impossible to replicate.
Contemplating the uniqueness of the artwork, I am reminded of my own life—a mosaic intricately assembled from various pieces of laughter, beauty, splendor, and love, entwined with the joys and complications that accompany it. A permanent stone in my mosaic is the legacy of my mother’s unprecedented passion for baking. She works for hours on end making baked treats for the adult helpers at church, youth group leaders, and friends. Whether it be a birthday, baby shower, or graduation, she would offer to make a cake, free of cost, for the celebratory event. A piece of cake carries the legacy of my mother’s endless generosity.
Because of her, I learned how to love, to give without expecting anything in return, to display benevolence in any form.
In my uniquely arranged mosaic, strung together by memories and and people, I am a living memory of the influences in my life, including my mother’s altruism. There’s a beauty in an abundance of diverse materials and colors that create my cohesive mosaic like the different people, lessons they teach, and memories I have. The excessiveness of memories and ample conversation are the glue that holds the bits of broken glass shards, ridged stones, uneven tiles, and shattered china together. Through social interaction, long lasting friendships, and humane relationships, I learned to use-and-reuse the recycled pieces of others, placing them in my personal mosaic; I carry a piece of my mother, father, sister, friends, and peers in me.
My mosaic is a timeline of new relationships and unprecedented interactions. A new texture or color in my mosaic is a bookmark of the changes in my life. The influences I have pulled, the traditions I’ve accumulated, the diverse minds and upbringings of those around me, the various habits and tendencies of my friends create and shape the very mosaic of my life.
My life’s pattern is akin to a captivating journey, guided by every challenge and joy I encounter. Each experience serves as a piece of the larger mosaic of my existence, contributing to the ever-evolving masterpiece that tells my story. I have come to appreciate the beauty that heartbreaks, complications, and tribulations manifest, allowing myself to heal and grow. Because beautiful mosaics are made from broken pieces.
As I contemplate the intricate mosaic of my life, I recognize that I hold a piece of every soul I’ve encountered, from close friends and family to passing acquaintances. My personality, far from being original, is a product of the diverse influences around me—the words I use from my friends, the humor inherited from my millennial sister, and the introversion that stems from my father. Even the little moments, like building a Lego flower set or picking kumquats from my grandma’s backyard, find their place in the intricate design of my mosaic.
Just like the artwork my dad admires, my mosaic celebrates the beauty of unity and transformation. While each individual fragment may appear insignificant, together they create a masterpiece—a unique and unparalleled design that captivates a story of growth, resilience, and the artistry of life.
I look at the piece of art. It’s a mosaic of San Francisco, capturing the city’s radiant sun, iconic skyline, and lively flora. Aware of my dad’s artistic talents and his tendency to approach art with a sense of confidence, I ask if he thinks he can recreate it. Surprisingly, this time, my dad nods, breaking his usual self-assured demeanor. He explains that this artwork is truly one-of-a-kind, a unique creation that cannot be replicated. Each piece of glass or stone is broken at random, it would be impossible to replicate.
Contemplating the uniqueness of the artwork, I am reminded of my own life—a mosaic intricately assembled from various pieces of laughter, beauty, splendor, and love, entwined with the joys and complications that accompany it. A permanent stone in my mosaic is the legacy of my mother’s unprecedented passion for baking. She works for hours on end making baked treats for the adult helpers at church, youth group leaders, and friends. Whether it be a birthday, baby shower, or graduation, she would offer to make a cake, free of cost, for the celebratory event. A piece of cake carries the legacy of my mother’s endless generosity.
Because of her, I learned how to love, to give without expecting anything in return, to display benevolence in any form.
In my uniquely arranged mosaic, strung together by memories and and people, I am a living memory of the influences in my life, including my mother’s altruism. There’s a beauty in an abundance of diverse materials and colors that create my cohesive mosaic like the different people, lessons they teach, and memories I have. The excessiveness of memories and ample conversation are the glue that holds the bits of broken glass shards, ridged stones, uneven tiles, and shattered china together. Through social interaction, long lasting friendships, and humane relationships, I learned to use-and-reuse the recycled pieces of others, placing them in my personal mosaic; I carry a piece of my mother, father, sister, friends, and peers in me.
My mosaic is a timeline of new relationships and unprecedented interactions. A new texture or color in my mosaic is a bookmark of the changes in my life. The influences I have pulled, the traditions I’ve accumulated, the diverse minds and upbringings of those around me, the various habits and tendencies of my friends create and shape the very mosaic of my life.
My life’s pattern is akin to a captivating journey, guided by every challenge and joy I encounter. Each experience serves as a piece of the larger mosaic of my existence, contributing to the ever-evolving masterpiece that tells my story. I have come to appreciate the beauty that heartbreaks, complications, and tribulations manifest, allowing myself to heal and grow. Because beautiful mosaics are made from broken pieces.
As I contemplate the intricate mosaic of my life, I recognize that I hold a piece of every soul I’ve encountered, from close friends and family to passing acquaintances. My personality, far from being original, is a product of the diverse influences around me—the words I use from my friends, the humor inherited from my millennial sister, and the introversion that stems from my father. Even the little moments, like building a Lego flower set or picking kumquats from my grandma’s backyard, find their place in the intricate design of my mosaic.
Just like the artwork my dad admires, my mosaic celebrates the beauty of unity and transformation. While each individual fragment may appear insignificant, together they create a masterpiece—a unique and unparalleled design that captivates a story of growth, resilience, and the artistry of life.
