The Basin, The Flower Holder, and The Dreamer

It's practical use is what caught her attention. It's history is what caught my attention. 

The durability and necessity of it made her bring it to the shop counter. The rust, braided and frayed rope handles, and  the faded yellow canary painting  on front made me stop, cross my arms, and wonder.

All Annie needed was a basin.  Well that wasn't all. As she walked with the basin filling her arms, Annie realized how hard the floor seemed and how thin the soles on her shoes were and how cuddled her toes felt.  A little shuffle was habitual for Annie as the tenants in her shoes demanded more space.  It never surprised people when she would bury her hand into her purse in search of a safety pin to fix a random hole in her top.  She was discreet, yet she had a feeling people were staring. This was true. It was intriguing to watch, but then embarrassment would grip them and make them swiftly turn away.

I don't need a basin. I just believe it is beautiful because it was loved and needed by someone else. Someone's hands have touched these rope handles, their sweat and blood -their very DNA- is lodged into it's fibers. It is now used as a flower pot. All the dancing colors and happy daisies are so inviting along with the aroma of wood chips that make me reminisce about being on a farm . As I examine it from left to right the rust and chipping metal tell a story of rain and then I see it. The feather-like handwriting below the detailed canary. The only decipherable letters are A.n,n and L.e.

Annie Lewis couldn't believe that Apple stayed still. She decided to take the opportunity to paint every detail from her chocolate oval eyes to the layers of her sunshine yellow feathers. Apple, her sweet little canary, clutched contently to her homemade perch by the stove. There was no reason for her to go outside. Absolutely none. This pleased Annie because she wanted to be able to remember Apple. She knew she couldn't control when Apple left. Spring was beautiful, but  it's impending arrival meant Apple would more than likely leave.  And as Annie expected, three months later, Apple heard the call of love when the last drop of frost evaporated. She was gone. but Annie still had her memory painted on the basin.

The only memory I have of my canary is a photograph with white metal bars. Spunky couldn't fly. Breeders or maybe pet shops clip their wings when they become pets. The little canary would never sing much when I played her canary record. A few chirps came out;that was it, but I loved her regardless because my mom loved canaries and part of me felt closer to my mom because of my little canary.  The day I brought Sammy home, I expected Spunky to sing when I put them next to each other so I waited. It was later I began to hear chirping and singing. Finally. It was during the next week I realized that Spunky was not the singer. In fact, Spunky was the nurturer. A little blue egg had appeared in his-I mean her-cage.  I wish I could say it ended happily, but it wasn't long after that I took Sammy to the vet for a cough and that was the last time I saw him. Spunky died not long after and I buried her in a little postal box under the pear tree. For a short period of time all I had was that little blue egg. It still hurts sometimes.

"Drafts wrestle with the curtains a lot during winter and sometimes I have to pull the sheets off my bed and block the breeze at its source.  I have been forced to put Apple's basin under the leak by the window, but I am sure to keep it in sight as it gives me comfort during this time. The fire is always soothing to not only my physical body, but my heart as well. I will have a nice lie down by the stove as I imagine the Cinder Girl  story. That girl might have been in dire circumstances, but we know that she found happiness. It will find me, "writes Annie.

"I bought a basin today. I think I like the idea of a happy flower pot on my balcony. Don't worry little basin, only joy will grow out of you. Happy daisies. I plan to fix the rust stains and I have some left over paint from my last project.  The little canary on the front looks like Spunky. Somehow I find looking at comforting. Where did you come from, little basin?"