The Puzzle on the Table: Turns Out, It Did Mean Something (But Also, It Was a Mess)

Remember that panda puzzle I wrote about last week, the one I heroically dumped onto my clutter-free table in an attempt to embrace imperfection, connection, and casual engagement? Well, plot twist: It actually worked.

Sort of.

(Did you miss the original post? Read it here! https://www.dhirubhai.net/pulse/puzzle-table-everything-needs-mean-something-lauren-bunton-ef6pc/?trackingId=4L45YX4pSFmG9I1ygNw%2Ftg%3D%3D)

Turns out, when a family member visited, the puzzle did exactly what I hoped it would—it pulled us in. We lingered at the table longer than usual, nudging pieces into place and letting conversation unfold at its own pace. It became a central gathering point, an unspoken invitation for different generations to meet in a shared, low-stakes mission: Find the edges first. No, wait—sort by colour. Oh my goodness, is this just a sea of bamboo?!

It turns out that, yes, even an unfinished puzzle can be a vessel for deeper conversations. The kind that sneak up on you between placing a piece and realizing, oh hey, this person is telling me something important.

The panda’s slowly forming face bore witness to stories we may not have otherwise told.

But before we get too sentimental, let’s also acknowledge what else the puzzle did: It took over the entire table, it made me resent its tiny scattered pieces by day four, and ultimately, the clutter became too much.

I did what any reasonable person would do—I packed it up, about one-third complete, and reclaimed my dining space.

Did the puzzle teach me something profound? Maybe. It reminded me that structure matters—both in puzzles and in life. That sometimes, a shared goal, even as small as piecing together a panda, can bring people closer. And that, at some point, you have to decide if the mess is serving you or just driving you slowly mad.

So, while the panda was never fully realized, it served its purpose in the way all good, imperfect things do. It brought us together, it gave us something to do with our hands while our minds wandered into meaningful places, and then, when it was time, it left.

Not everything needs to mean something—but sometimes, even when we try to resist it, things find their own meaning anyway. And sometimes, they just make your table unusable. Both are okay.