Puzzle

I can remember it like it was yesterday: my grandparents walking into our home every few Christmas's with a large box-like package in their possession.  Even though I knew what it was the joy of an 8 year old was just too much too contain.  Very soon cookie sheets would be out, lamp shades would be angled, backs would be sore, and the puzzle; tattered and broken through the stages of it's construction.

 . . . . .And that's the good memory. . .

Five, Zero, Four didn't sound like a daunting task for us to complete.  Just a simple picture of a mirror lake.  Why were there so many warnings?  Why so much fear?  

Now I've never made a puzzle, but one would think that you shouldn't make all the pieces exactly the same. Yet, for someone this must have been the best prank in the world.  504 pieces with all the same shape and the only thing to differentiate them was color.  Good thing when one third or the puzzle is a single solid color.  Well, 3 1/2 hours later the sky remained and my mind was battling my body between pride and sleep.  I may think twice about every doing this puzzle again, or I'll just burn it.

. . . . .And that's the bad memory. . .