Fifteen years ago I was living in Jamaica Plain (a Boston neighborhood). Didn’t have a car. Didn’t need one.
I was walking on Williams Street, making my way to the grocery store, when I came across a small crowd standing in a yard that was full of things for sale.
They were for sale because Jason, an artist, was selling off his possessions and moving to the Netherlands. I looked around for something to buy. Something small that would fit in my back pack.
Instead, I spotted something completely impractical. Delightfully so. It looked like a fireplace screen. But it was a bed. An old hospital bed that Jason had found and painted in the Bloomsbury style.
I had just enough money on me to buy the bed. Groceries would have to wait.
Someone with a truck volunteered to drive me and my new bed home. We’ve been together ever since.
Jason is back in Boston, now. His Buddha lives in Florida. Couldn’t take the winters any more.
Alas, Buddha suffered a slight mishap on the move down. A long shallow scratch. Starting at his chest and ending … in a painful spot. But I think he’s okay. Still as serene as ever.
Note: I’m participating in the A to Z Blogging Challenge for 2016.