Where the Pieces Belong
I have always seen life as a giant puzzle.
Not a journey.
Not a road.
Not a chapter.
A puzzle.
The difference between a real puzzle and life is that a puzzle comes with a picture on the box.
Life doesn’t.
When we open a puzzle, we already know what we are building.
We know where the sky belongs.
Where the trees belong.
Where the water belongs.
Life gives us no such advantage.
The way I see it, we arrive with all the pieces already scattered across the table.
The picture is our life.
The pieces are the people, places, dreams, losses, opportunities, mistakes, and experiences that shape it.
The challenge is not building the picture.
The challenge is figuring out where everything belongs.
Some people arrive at the table with a foundation already started.
Before we are old enough to understand the puzzle, someone else is holding the pieces.
Some people are fortunate enough to have parents who find a few corners, build a few edges, and create enough structure for us to eventually recognize part of the picture.
Others do not.
And while the picture remains the same, the starting point does not.
That foundation matters.
Not because it solves the puzzle.
Because it helps us understand sooner what we are looking at.
When there is no foundation, the first years are often spent doing work that should have already been done.
Finding the corners.
Building the edges.
Creating enough structure to begin.
Perhaps that is why some people seem to find their way sooner than others.
Not because they are smarter.
Not because they are stronger.
Because they were able to begin recognizing the picture earlier.
But eventually the puzzle belongs to all of us.
And that is when things become interesting.
Most of us spend years working on a single section.
A relationship.
A career.
A dream.
A place.
We become so focused on that one corner that we forget how large the picture really is.
And while we are staring at that one section, time continues moving.
Quietly.
Relentlessly.
Unlike puzzle pieces, time cannot be picked up and moved somewhere else.
It cannot be recovered.
It cannot be replaced.
We convince ourselves that this relationship is everything.
That this job is everything.
That this dream is everything.
Meanwhile, the answer may be sitting on the other side of the table, waiting for us to notice it.
Sometimes we place pieces where we know they don’t belong.
Not forever.
Just for now.
We do it because we are trying to understand the section we are working on.
We step back.
We study the picture.
We imagine possibilities.
Sometimes that temporary piece stays there for years.
Not because it fits.
Because it helps us see.
A relationship.
A city.
A job.
A dream.
Then one day the piece that truly belongs there arrives.
And suddenly everything becomes clearer.
Not because the temporary piece was wrong.
Because it served its purpose.
It helped us recognize the right one when we finally found it.
I don’t think most pieces are wrong.
I think we simply place them in the wrong section.
A person enters our life.
A dream.
A city.
An opportunity.
We know it matters.
We know it belongs somewhere.
We just don’t know where.
Years later, after stepping back and seeing more of the picture, we realize the piece was never wrong.
It was simply waiting for the right place.
A puzzle cannot be solved with your nose pressed against it.
From time to time, you have to step back.
You have to see the entire table.
The pieces you have already placed.
The sections that make sense.
The ones that don’t.
Life is no different.
I think that is why people travel.
Why they sit quietly and think.
Why they change direction.
Why they ask themselves difficult questions.
Not because they are lost.
Because they are trying to see the picture from farther away.
The strange thing is that when I look back ten or twenty years, I can often see connections that were invisible at the time.
The amount of people.
The decisions.
The accidents.
The opportunities.
The losses.
The sheer madness of it all.
At the time, I could only see a few pieces at once.
Looking back, I can see entire sections of the puzzle connecting together.
A person I thought was important was actually helping reveal another section of the picture.
A place I thought was permanent was only helping me reach another destination.
A piece I almost ignored turned out to connect an entire area of the puzzle.
None of it was obvious then.
It only became visible after enough pieces were in place.
Perhaps that is why certain moments feel so familiar.
Not because they have happened before.
Because we have imagined them.
A room.
A place.
A version of ourselves.
Years later we find ourselves standing in that moment and it feels like déjà vu.
Not because the moment is repeating.
Because the picture has finally caught up with something we recognized long ago.
Some pieces arrive as surprises.
Others arrive as recognitions.
A city.
A dream.
A conversation.
A person.
A possibility.
Something that makes us stop and think:
There you are.
I have been expecting you.
The older I get, the less interested I am in judging the pieces.
Less interested in labeling people, places, decisions, and dreams as right or wrong.
The older I get, the more interested I become in understanding where they belong.
Because every piece matters.
Even the temporary ones.
Even the pieces we moved three or four times before finding the right place.
Even the pieces we misunderstood.
Even the ones that seemed unrelated at the time.
They all belong somewhere in the picture.
People often ask if I like puzzles.
I never know how to answer.
I am still trying to solve mine.
And I suspect a few pieces are missing.
Then again, maybe they aren’t missing at all.
Maybe I just haven’t found them yet.