Venturing out to one of my favorite antique shops yesterday, I tried to imagine what I hoped to find. This summer, when I was antiquing with my mother, I asked her to visualize what she wanted to see, and she said she was looking for a rusty red bed. At the very next stop, she found one.
With that in mind, I tried to visualize what I wanted, and nothing particular came to mind. But I went anyway in joyful expectation of just getting back into my everyday life, where I peek into an antique shop before grocery shopping.
Photo: French canisters that do not have lids; I will use them to hold spoons, flowers, or something like that.
When I walked into the shop, I nearly tripped over the boxes, and things sprawled over the floor. I looked at the owner as if to say, "What happened here?" It seemed someone had just delivered a pile of treasures, and the owner hadn't had time to put them away, let alone price them.
Photo: A crystal bathroom canister with a silver lid. I have placed the tea in it instead, which is in the kitchen.
The owner came up to me and said he had heard about my loss and offered his condolence. I was caught off guard… I didn't expect him to know. I hadn't thought about what I would say about my long absences.
Photo: A pair of silver wine bottle trays.
…and with that, I was caught off guard and started to cry. And not just a few tears but an entire truckload of tears. Uncontrollable sobs. And as I stood in the sprawled-out mess of antiques, I couldn't see very well to get away and get hold of myself. So I just stood there blubbering in French and feeling very self-conscious.
Photo: A turn of the century glass frame without an image and with water spots on it.
The owner bowed his head and looked the other way. Then in a flash, he gently grabbed my shoulder and said, "I am sorry, it is hard, it takes time…" He bent down, putting the canisters, the crystal canister, the wine trays, this little blue and white espresso cup, and…
These three 19-th century French demi-tasses with gold and pink, hand-painted roses into a basket. I wondered what he was doing, and my tears subsided. He looked up, smiled, and said, "It was dust in your eyes?" With that, I knew he was telling me it was okay and trying to help me feel less self-conscious.
Then he handed me the basket and this miniature painting. With that, he said, "Welcome back; I hope this little offering comforts you and lets you know I care about you."
A billow of dust engulfed me, and did I ever start wiping my eyes? I knew I had found what I was looking for–
My everyday life.
Note: As a way of paying it forward– add your name here, and I will pick a name out of a hat or something this coming Saturday and send a porcelain demi-tasse cup to the lucky winner.
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Thank you! As of today, Saturday, September 13th, the comments for the draw are closed. Winners will be announced around 10:00 am French time.
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