Claudia.
Like a stained glass window, my name and I.
Different pieces, from different places, each with a different story, come together to form something striking. I’m not just from one place, and just one thing does not define me. I’m made up of different customs, backgrounds, traditions. But they fit.
Italian from my father, English and Irish from my mother. Tan skin, but blonde hair and blue eyes. Big Christmas Eve parties in New York, small Thanksgiving dinners in Roanoke. A love for math and science, with a passion for art and music. Curious, without a care in the world.
Inspiring, influential. You don’t just walk by. You notice. The things that scream different are really there for a purpose. Each angle cut precise, each color hue, was perfectly planned by the great artist. When you are up close, you might not be able to put it together. You might not be able to read it well. But just take a few steps back. Then you will see the big picture. Whether there are sharp cuts or round cuts, big or small, they come together. And fit.
This colored pane gives hope and a sense of peace. Like the smell of salt mixed with dry sand in the ocean breeze. Never enraged. But when anger does strike, it comes in a peaceful way. Even when the stained glass is displaying a hurtful, horrific, painful image, it remains composed and intact.
It always looks pleasant, but when the Light shines though, just then, does it look most exquisite. Not only that, but the moment the Light comes in, with bright beams that blind your eyes, that glass is fulfilling its primary purpose.
