A Couch That Tells a Story
There’s a quiet kind of beauty in imperfection—the kind that lives in torn couches and chipped teacups. I’ve never liked throwing things away—not broken things, not old things, not tired things…There are many pieces in my home that I refuse to throw away.
Like our couch—torn in a few places, but rich in history. It was the first couch my husband and I purchased together. Back then, we didn’t know much—just that we needed something soft to land on. And that couch became exactly that.
Over time, it caught crumbs, cradled babies, soaked in our late-night laughter and silent frustrations. The tears don’t bother us. They remind us. We look at it now and chuckle at how far we’ve come.
That couch tells its own story—*our* story.
The Beauty in the Broken
Another piece: a chipped white saucer and a blue mug with a worn notch on its rim. Most would’ve tossed them by now. But not me.
I can’t even tell you how the chips got there—and somehow, that doesn’t matter. What matters is how many times we’ve poured tea into that mug, passed it between hands, or held it while sharing stories in the kitchen.
The chips? They aren’t flaws—they’re accents. That’s the beauty in imperfection.
**My beauty is not in perfection. My beauty is in sharing thoughtful memories.**
Releasing the Weight
Today—right now, as I write this—I realize I’ve been carrying more than I need.
Life’s been moving so fast, and I’ve been trying to catch up, afraid I’m falling behind. But I see now that I’ve been holding onto things not meant to stay: the comparisons, the worry, the weight of who might be ahead of me.
That’s where *Pagpag* comes in.
In the Philippines, there’s a tradition after funerals: before going home, people stop somewhere else—anywhere—to shake off the sorrow so it doesn’t follow them through the door. It’s a gentle way of honoring grief but not inviting it to stay.
Coming Home to Peace
I’ve started to realize that I need a bit of that, too.
So from now on, I choose both. I’ve come to embrace the beauty in imperfection—in my home, in my journey, and in myself.
I will stitch with gold what’s been cracked (*Kintsugi*)—and I’ll shake off what tries to cling (*Pagpag*). Because I’m not just surviving.
**I’m crafting a life full of meaning.**
I deserve to come home to serenity.
To stories tucked in my furniture, laughter etched into chipped mugs, and peace flowing through the quiet corners of my spirit.
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*Related: [Turning Fire into Warmth: How I Chose Love When Life Handed Me Ashes]
Learn more about [Kintsugi]and the philosophy behind its golden repairs.
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