Unbound - Rachel's Story
Copyright© 2025 by A Kiwi Guy
Chapter 3
That evening, Rachel was about to wash up her dinner dishes when her phone rang. The caller ID made her smile — it was her godmother, Chloe.
Rachel had always called her Godmama, a name she invented as a pre-schooler and never outgrew. It carried a comforting sense of intimacy and playfulness, a title wrapped in warmth. Throughout her life, Chloe had been the one she could always turn to for hugs and motherly advice — especially when she didn’t feel she could talk to her own mother.
While her relationship with Pauline was loving, it was not close in the same way. There had always been a slight formality to it, a kind of respectful distance. With Chloe, there was no such formality — just the freedom to be vulnerable.
“Godmama,” Rachel said as she answered, “you always seem to know the exact moment I need a hug — even if it’s just a tele-hug.”
“Just had that feeling tonight might be a good time,” Chloe replied, her voice rich with fondness.
Rachel chuckled. “Are you sure you haven’t planted a bug in my flat to keep tabs on me?”
Chloe laughed. “I don’t need an electronic bug, darling. The Holy Spirit gives me a nudge when it’s an appropriate time.”
“I really envy your faith, Godmama.”
“It can be yours too, you know, my dear. But I’m not pressing. You’ll know when it’s time to admit you can’t handle life on your own. And I’ll be here. I’m the first to say you’ve done amazingly well with what you’ve been handed. But just remember — well isn’t the same as best. Anyway, what’s bugging you at the moment?”
The question cracked something inside her. Rachel hadn’t realised how tightly the small storm had coiled in her chest throughout the day. It spilled out now, not in a torrent but in the quiet, unfiltered honesty that only Chloe could draw from her.
She told her about the chipped mug — such a small thing, but it had set her off — about some undercurrents of tension in her class, Anton’s unwanted advances, and her uncertainty about Matt, who was intriguing but unreadable. And finally, she confessed a deeper ache — a gnawing question about whether her life had any real value.
“Whew!” said Chloe. “That’s some catalogue, little one. I’m not going to try to solve it all — most of it will work itself out, given time. But I do have a couple of questions for you.”
Rachel gave a slight sniffle. “Go on.”
“First,” said Chloe, “have you ever heard of Kintsugi?”
Rachel blinked. “No. Should I have?”
“I’m a bit surprised it didn’t come up during your arts degree.”
Chloe went on to explain the Japanese art of Kintsugi: the philosophy of repairing broken pottery not by disguising the cracks but by filling them with gold or silver lacquer, honouring the damage as part of the object’s history, not a flaw to be hidden. The brokenness, far from ruining the vessel, became what made it beautiful.
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