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Mirror StoriesI'll use this area to share some of the remarkable letters I've received. — Judy I bought two boxes of your Dancing Garden Mirrors, one for me and one for my elderly sister. I put mine outside where the reflections dance about the garden. They are delightful. She put hers in her bay window. She has three Persian cats, which sleep all the time. About four in the afternoon the sun hits the mirrors and the reflection bops about the room. The cats go crazy chasing the rapid moving reflections. My sister gets such a kick out of it she frequently calls me to report the shenanigans to me. Up the couch, a leap to the window seat, a clawless bat to the wall. She laughs as she reports and she seldom laughs. Sometimes the recounts are so funny that I am in my car and driving the ten miles to share tea and delight with her. The mirrors and the cats are a hoot. Thought you should know. It was the end of a four day spring flower show. The exhibitors were getting ready to pack our unsold goods and head for home. They were the last customers to come to our booth. She had big blue eyes brimmed with sadness. Her hair was too perfect, her coloring a bit odd. I couldn’t keep my eyes off of her. He was a most attentive husband who watched her every move. “Bob, I love these. Wouldn’t they look lovely in our garden.” She fingered the mirrors that hung from our display. “They look like fairies?” “Well, Sue, we think we could use a few fairies.” “The reflections of the mirrors do look like flashes of “Tinkerbell” when the sun catches them. At night, the moon changes them into fireflies.” I volunteered. Bob and Susie exchanged smiles. “We’ll take two boxes.” She rummaged through her purse and excavated her credit card. “Sorry, we don’t take credit cards.” And I handed her the purchase. She checked back into the contents of her purse. “Oh, I left the check book at home and I haven’t enough money left.” She handed me back the bag with the two boxes of mirrors. “Look, you just take them. You can send me a check. Here’s the address on my card.” “I can’t! You don’t know me.” “You will send me a check. I know.” “I will. Yes,, I will. Nobody does this in this day and age.” Her delight changed her eyes and her color took on a pleasant hue. Even Bob saw it. “Thank you so much. The check will be in tomorrow’s mail.” And of course, it was. Weeks went by and I received a email from Susie. She loved the mirrors and mentioned several times how much pleasure they gave her. She even mentioned the word hope. It seemed like a big word. Several emails later, she shared their story. Susie and Bob had been trying for a family for quite a long time. Finally, she became pregnant. They were ecstatic. The joy didn’t last very long. Four months later, they were told she had cancer. The baby had to be aborted so that treatment could be begun. Her visit to the flower show had come at the end of her chemotherapy. Her perfect hair had been a wig and her sad eyes were the reflection of a mighty struggle. Bob and her mother had been her constant support. More mirrors were ordered and enjoyed. I lost Susie’s email address when a virus took my computer down. I often wondered what happened to them. The next spring flower show came and went and though I fanaticized that I would see them, I didn’t. I imagined the worst and hoped for the best. Two years later, same flower show, I looked up and saw those amazing eyes. She laughed. “Here, pull my hair!” I did. It was a rich auburn, luxurious and curly. It definitely was not a wig. ”We were away last year. Two years ago you were the last thing we saw. This year you are the first thing we came to see. I will never forget that little bit of faith that you demonstrated. Those mirrors were a spark, a tiny encouragement of assurance, showing up at much needed times. Fairies can’t be wrong. I am well. Thanks for the faith. |
"At
night, I feel like I have my own private swarm of fireflies!" |
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Art
in Green, Too Web site design: David Bryan, Web Site Wise, Orleans MA : All rights reserved |