Here’s this week’s reflection. I hope it resonates with you and ask that, if you enjoyed, please comment and share on your social media. Heartfelt thanks for all your support!
Keeping the light on for you,
Carol
Our eyes adjust to the dim light. Faint rays of late afternoon sun illuminate suspended dust particles in the cavernous warehouse. The musty scent of bygone eras greets us and tickles our nasal passages. A few sneezes later, our expedition begins: Dad and I are in search of an old stained-glass window – my college graduation gift.
The decision for something vintage to commemorate this milestone came as no surprise to my parents. My interest in ancestral artifacts had already blossomed into a fondness for architectural salvage. And now, I was determined to rescue even more beauty from the past.
The proprietor greeted us heartily in this gloriously sketchy part of town. He knew his relics and warmly offered brief histories of accoutrements from the buildings they once graced. Glass, marble, wood, and metal cavorted harmoniously here, weaving a colorful web of local history. From massive wooden pediments and ornately carved stone building facades to the most delicately flourished metal hinge, the massive collection was a feast for the eyes and ages.
After ushering us to the appropriate section, the owner turned to leave and I noticed the glint of metal in his back pocket. A longer glance verified it was indeed a pistol. A chill went down my spine and I motioned to Dad. While these businesses are often in less than desirable parts of town, such a blatant display of arms was a bit disconcerting to this country girl.
Nonplussed, Dad smiled and nodded as we began to gingerly sort through pane after pane of worn windows, searching for an appropriate casement. Focusing on and picking through the decades helped ease my wariness as we sought the pleasing trifecta of color, meaning, and price. As we shopped, several other customers expeditiously entered and exited the owner’s small office, seemingly uninterested in the treasure trove before them. Despite the blip on our radar, we continued undaunted for a while until Dad and I suddenly stopped and looked at each other. There were clearly two businesses going on here and it was time to add efficiency to our priority list.
Hastening the scouting mission, we came across a lovely specimen with three “candles,” representing a flame of knowledge for each of my degrees: Diploma of Nursing, bachelor’s, and master’s degrees. Cash sealed the deal and we skedaddled back to the car. A milkshake and laughter accompanied us all the way home as we toasted our success and vowed that only rare city visits would suffice from now on.
Dad meticulously framed the piece in maple and it was reverently displayed as hanging art for many years in our previous home. Though our current abode lacks proper hanging space, the glass still adorns an office window seat. Although twenty-six years have passed, the trio of amber flames continues to glow each evening as sunset filters through. Once darkness falls, a nearby lamp continues to gently coax subtle shimmer and warmth from the marl. The candlesticks once representing academic merit now reflect on the past, warm the present, and illuminate a future. They also lovingly perpetuate a sweet and funny memory of two country bumpkins abruptly finding themselves in a potentially precarious situation that thankfully did not go awry.
Dad instilled in us an affinity for the rustic beauty of the unusual and imperfect. Good enough is better than perfect. My aged window with its crack and wavy glass panels from eons of use is every bit as special to me now as the day Dad and I deemed it perfect to represent a long journey. Dad passed away seven years ago and I have not returned to that warehouse. It seems wrong to forage without him. And though it tugs greatly at my heart, looking at that old window also makes me smile.
Dad was always up for a road trip and a milkshake, and if that sojourn included looking at old stuff, he was all in. Perhaps that is why I enjoy antique shops so much, except now, in the name of better health, without the obligatory shake. I am grateful for a love and respect of the past and thank my most important paternal mentor for that. The three flickers in my memento will forever represent and guide my path, continuing to warm my soul for the rest of my days.