The Wooden House

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The wooden house sat in the corner of Billsboro and Fallbroader streets in the Kingdom of Euboiro, up in the hill behind some oak trees, surrounded by nosy gossip du jour deliver neighbors, bordered by trees and calm ambience, humid weather and raggedy terrain, characteristic of the tropical climate. The houses were built ceiling to ceiling, on top of standing wooden poll sticks in such razor-thin proximity the neighbors could hear each other’s sneeze. Like many homes built in the area, miss Madeleine’s was of the same design, resembling a tree-house or a hanging stool to escape the frequent rain and ranging mud. 

The Baby Bottle

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April 13, 2014, Happy Birthday Baby!

I saw this last Saturday at an antique store in Winter Garden, FL and was this close, from purchasing it.

I must confess, as a blogger, curiosity had the best of me. I thought of many reasons the little notes could perhaps, make the ultimate guide to writing beautiful love of parent to child stories, an interesting read but something stopped me at my tracks.

I picked up the jar twice. I turned it around, looked a at it and turned again. I tried to peek through the translucent glass but the notes were so carefully jammed in that not even the Pink Panther would be able to solve the case.
I dragged the jar with me all over the store as I browsed through it. I misplaced it a few times to picking it right back a few seconds later, to finally giving it up for good just as fast as I could sneeze off the dust.

It did not speak to me. I didn’t think it was right. Thought I was violating the person’s trust but one could easily argue, I was not since the jar was up For Sale.

How can parents “love for a child” be up for sale? If indeed the notes were intended for a four years old in 2014, basically two years ago, there must have been a big reason why the jar was discarded and it wasn’t my job to play detective. One could play the devils advocate and assume the notes were intended to be opened when the child was old enough to read but it was there alone, tucked in a corner.

If it was meant for me to have the jar, I would have been Told So. It would speak to me and it didn’t. I would quietly paid for it and walked away with a smile but I didn’t. So, without a tear in my eyes, I laid it back at exactly place where I found it, on the left corner of the second shelf of the bookcase on the last isle.

I could think of a few 100 reasons why I love you, can you?