I was at a local thrift store last week, and came across the carved egg below, made of solid black marble.
It was selling for a dollar.
$1.
A good deal for me, I suppose. My dad could not believe the egg was made of actual marble until he held it, felt its weight and coolness, and knocked it against another hard surface.
A part of my heart ached to see such craftsmanship and loveliness being atrociously underappreciated and overlooked.
A loonie is not enough to even pay for the raw material from which it was then cut, formed, and polished — much less the skill, time, and care this artist invested into etching this landscape of a tree and boat and lake and mountains onto a curved, rock-hard surface.
takes a breath and decides not to rant
Well. I am grateful I get to keep and enjoy it now.
It sits at my favourite desk as a reminder that lack of recognition does not equal a lack of value or beauty, nor does it mean you or I should stop doing what we care about.
It also reminds me that it is not the worst thing to have something you made being sold in some obscure store years later, for a dollar. If there is love at the beginning and at the end of the story, the pain of the journey is but the price to be paid gladly for such a treasure.