Thrift Shop Treasures

It’s a used one. I mean when I got it, it was already covered up by other people’s fingerprints. At first my attention was drawn to it because of the cover image. I like the four seasons in itself; I find that it is a fully complete process. I especially love how in winter everything freezes. It’s like if Simon in Simon Says called out: “Simon says freeze!” Then I heard the violins playing in my head like if my memory file contained the music sheet. I felt warmth in my heart. My eyes were closed yet allowing for the imagery of the letters to take place like a printed logo on my brain. I read: Vivaldi

I opened my eyes and my instinct was strongly commanding me to reach for the box. I was in a public place and I thought of how strange it was to also be in the mists of a particularly intimate moment since I could hear echoes of something as grand as I would call: The Vivaldi Moment

Have you ever experienced it that way? When out of a sudden all noises from your surroundings become silent and there you are, standing in front of center stage and you can hear your heartbeat. That’s exactly what happened to me too! In that zone, I touched the box and the sound zoomed to my fingers touching it: The cardboard box. It smelled old too. I lifted it up and flipped it around. From the worn-out edges I could tell that the cover had been opened many times before. I noticed on the bottom of the box a recent sticker that someone placed there to advise the client that the content has been accounted for in its full capacity. They wrote: Complete

So I went to the clerk to account for the administrative duties. He looked down at me as I approached his counter. As I opened my lips to speak I doubled the efforts to let some voice out: “How much do I owe you?” “All puzzles are three dollars.” I intended to reach for some cash when suddenly my attention got drowned into some type of fantasy world, or was it more into the old time world? The store here is filled by objects that had a life. By the use of the word life here, I mean that these objects had served other humans in some types of ways at some point in time. And I said fantasy because the headless mannequin by my side was wearing a soldier’s jacket and on the tag it was scripted the following: Princess Patricia

“But this jacket can’t have belonged to a soldier” I said out loud non-intendedly. “It’s a commander’s uniform” he said, as he had his back facing me and was attending to other matters. “I’m a Ram too” I said smiling “I’ll take that too!” He got busied up to some other corners of the store already, so I helped myself out and gently lifted it from these lifeless shoulders, I flipped it around in the air and made it land on myself. “I’m ready!” and beside the register a carefully written note inscribed: Who Paid Belongs

My back instantly got covered with shivers. Am I in debt of any sorts already? I barely contemplated the idea that I’d be the next one to open the case, I mean this box... I mean only had I just throned this fabric onto me that the beginning of the story must happen. “The story starts here” he said. “Excuse me what?” “Oh I just rephrased the quote from the cover of the puzzle box.” I immediately stared at the cover on which was printed: Open to enter

Oh, price wasn’t an issue. I pulled out a red and a purple: “That’s sixty” I said. He inserted the master key in the lower lock of the vintage cash register and cranked the drawer open. It all seemed like he was performing his sales-related tasks religiously. He then stamped the sales receipt with the date and before handling it back to me, he grabbed a red ink pen and wrote: Non Refundable

As ridiculous as this could sound, this is how I found my outfit, and I do not slightly feel like it belongs to anyone else. It embraces my body so perfectly, and it also amazes me how simultaneously my mission of assembling all the pieces together just melts within me. Everything was at rest… and now a new life is gathering energies for its cycle to pursue. Spring in well on its way!

The time is right. There is no need to stress on it. Each piece reveals how immaculate it merges to the grand scheme. And this is how, to me, fantasy crosses path with reality; for one can see how it well seems to be, that a large-scale systematic plan is revealed. Here’s the cover box, therefore it must hold the formula to this mystery.

In the box I even found a little figurine. It is a tiny silver ballerina that probably embellished some type of garment and by chance had landed in here somehow. Perhaps a child while playing accidently dropped her, and she got mixed up with all the other puzzle pieces.

Since I found her in there, I thought I should make good use of her as being a reminder to keep track on progress, so that each time a new combination is found, she would move around on the puzzle board like the hands working around the clock, clicking, circling and softly dancing about and throughout.

I have managed to assemble a few pieces so far, and each fusion is truly fantastic; it’s like having a library of information and then attempting for each segment to connect together, as if it was not composing with fragments of a picture, but rather unfolding a story where everything relates and unite. When I noticed that curious fact, I was carefully placing the ballerina on a piece shaped like a wave, and to my mind surfaced the thought about the incredible balance between being soft and strong, and of how it is an amalgam very few have mastered.

The other night, I fell asleep praying for a child to come play with the puzzle. And when the morning light shone upon my window, I couldn’t wait to see if another figurine may have been accidently forgotten.

It was the early morning and I had just woken up. When I arrived at the table, he was there scratching his mind with the next piece in his hand. “Is this piece part of the old time world?” he asked. We were trying to fit the pieces as much as we could, but it was hard because the painting of the Four Seasons was contained inside the map of the puzzle, thus creating space for The Fifth Season to blossom. I didn’t notice that until he pointed it out to me.

And when he actually showed up in the middle of center stage, his uniform was glowing from a golden light shining on him, and he was smiling at me. “Quixote, is that you?” He came here alone and all by himself, no horse to be seen and no friend along with him. Oh this is so real, I thought. But before I even noticed how I was covered in white, he said: “Are you an angel?” He caught me by surprise, for I really wasn’t expecting him to speak out to me, and I was equally startled to see that I was wearing the white cotton dress I once got from the Salvation Army. I was even more puzzled when I noticed he was wearing the Princess’ jacket. “We’re on stage.” “The show must go on” he replied. I was about to explain how we crossed realities, but he declared with great astonishment “Well where is the public then?” I burst into laughter and grabbed his hand. Together we could do anything. We walked to the edge of the stage; all lights were beaming brightly towards us. “Do you trust me?” “I do” and at the count of three we jumped off.