puzzles tender_square laura told me tearfully that her father had an attempt, it was one of the reasons she moved back home from portland. her dad was a veteran. he was the quiet type. reserved. her family didn’t know why he’d done it, didn’t know the extent of his suffering. since then, she said, he’d been going to a group at the va and taking therapy; he didn’t try to diminish what had happened. i assured her that was a really good sign. her mom and dad had recently returned from a trip where they visited their new grandbaby and he had been buoyed by her joyful giggles, laura saw a renewed shine in his eyes. laura’s dad shook my hand when i offered it. he struck me as a gentle soul, world-weary in a way. he made small talk about the coffee we all shared before he dressed in a down-jacket and hat; he took laura’s black lab out the sliding door and through their wooded lot to be alone. laura’s mom said she was looking for puzzles at the rummage sale we were heading to. she liked cityscapes; she’d done thirty-five of them since the pandemic started. but she was leery of boxes with missing pieces. she wanted command over the full picture, without any holes in her view. but that was the problem with puzzles, the box became evidence of what had been lost. the irretrievable piece wasn’t an unknown, it was essential to the completion of the scene. at the sale, laura found opaque vases for her flower arranging. i bought a rattan chair and some prints. laura’s mom didn’t find any puzzles to her liking, and settled for a stack of holly-printed christmas napkins instead. 220501 what's it to you? who go blather from