Wednesday, June 07, 2006

A Personal Story, Part I


Once upon a time there was a shop keeper once who collected and cared for fragile things.

His shop was full of curio cabinets with glass doors and each cabinet was filled with little figurines, and all were quite special to him.
Each figurine had a story of its own, and all of them were damaged in some way when he found them. There were angels, and kittens, and puppies, and little glass flowers; as well as hand painted children, wood-elves, and fairies, horses, trees, birds, fishes, and oh-- just about anything you can imagine.

He did all he could to make repairs so that any flaws would be corrected. He had painted, glued, melted, soldered, dusted, washed, and anything else he could think of to restore the figurines to their original beauty.

The shop keeper had many customers visit his shop everyday. Some customers were regulars, and some were new, but they all admired the many figurines in the cabinets, and everyone had a favorite. The figurines were not for sale though, even though some people tried very hard to buy them.
The shop keeper would explain, “These are special to me, and they are fragile. Each one has its own story and only I know where they have been broken and how to take care of them.”

One morning, the shop keeper arrived at his shop and found a box on the ground in front of his door. There was no note, and nothing written on the box, but the shop keeper picked it up carefully and carried it inside. He hung up his coat, put his keys in the drawer, tucked his umbrella away, and turned his attention to the box that he had laid on the counter. Carefully he opened the box and found it to be full of old newspapers.

As he removed the newspapers he discovered a badly broken figurine, loosely wrapped in a sheet of paper. On the piece of paper was a roughly written note that said, “This was mine, and I broke it. It was special, and now I think it is trash. If you can do anything with it you can keep it. Otherwise, just toss it out.”


badinnocence said...

"I hope someone takes the time to tell you they love you today...and I hope you will listen and believe them.
And if no-one says doesn't mean they don't love you.

You are special..."

Thank you. Ha, I guess "I love you" is a thing I don't hear too often, and its nice to recieve a comment like that once in a while. I guess I could use a bit of an ego boost now and again, but then again who can't? Haha.
Thanks bunches.
Love your blog.

..................... said...

When I was 6 I broke a chinese vase that my dad had given my mother. It was broken in several pieces. They glued it back together. My dad died when I was 7. Yesterday, I carefully picked up that vase and dusted underneath it while I was getting my 83 year old mother's house ready to show.

Lady Prism said...

I have this feeling of needing to be glued together as well....

Have a nice day...just peeked in...I want to write that mail to you...but I don't want to just write next week..after all my rush rush here are settled and I'm alone and quiet.... will pour me out in print and have faith that cyberspace will float it to you...till then...have a wonderful weekend...


ps: I'm in a cyber cafe doing this...I just came from my son's new school and am' faintly disoriented because of the amount of tuition fee I just shelved out!...I need a cup of tea to settle down my nerves...say "Hi" to everyone for me...I can't surf....need to meditate...sigh!...( and I haven't even purchased the uniforms yet...!!)

X. Dell said...

The shopkeeper has a keen business sense. By refusing to sell the figurines, he inflates the market, and subsequently their value.

Often times, the broken ones are the best of all once you put thm back together.

But I'll wait for the rest of the story. . . .

Mayden' s Voyage said...

badinnocence...I am so glad you came :) You are always welcome here :) are going to make me cry. This story is about broken-ness, and about mending. I'm almost embarrased to finish it. Quite personal.

Lux- thank you. There is a place later in part 3 where the figurine gets seated next to a fairie...I thought of you when I typed into the blog :) but I actually wrote this story months ago...before I really got to know you here. I wondered, when I wrote it, who the fairie was :)

X~ a true New! :) And yes, you are right--being broken and mended gives us character...
wish there was an easier way! :)

..................... said...

ah, sweet 'ums. t'is about healing....
and that is a good thing.