patching the nicks

For my birthday last year, the boy I used to live with gave me a framed print from Scharffen Berger. I loved it and I loved him for giving it to me - knowing my penchant for high milkfat chocolates, he sought it out at the Scharffen Berger shop and lugged it downtown to an art store to be framed professionally. It's all print and glass and old chocolate oak frame. It feels the way Real Art should: very heavy and very huge and very beautiful.

Adding to the casualties of moving this summer, the side of the frame got nicked somewhere en route from New York to Boston. My roommate noticed the thin strip of white where there was once brown as we were hanging it in the hall this morning. Appropriate, I thought, that this should be bruised and damaged. Nothing is safe. I decided to ignore it. What's one more nick?

Thirty seconds later my roommate returned, announcing that the problem had been remedied. He had colored the white strip in brown again with a permanent marker. The nick had all but disappeared. I'm learning you feel your way back to making things whole, one little patch at a time.