Lonely Hearts
She loves to haunt the antique shops, poking in all the nooks and crannies. It is amazing what one can find underneath the main tables, in boxes or on the floor. Stacked in a dark forgotten corner, a bunch of frames are mostly empty and cheap. The walnut in the last one is fairly intact, but what she notices, what she always really looks for, is the photo. Her throat gets tight looking into those eyes. Who are you? What is your story? Are you still here, grown aged, with wisdom in your now-wrinkled face, and life’s gnarls in your hands? Or are you watching me from above, hoping, guiding, nudging me towards this stack? Why is your photograph here instead of on a relative’s shelf? She is not able to resist the young woman’s face, cannot stand the thought of leaving her in the shop under the table. She puts the frame atop her pile of purchases at the counter, and later, at home, after she cleans the glass and polishes the wood, she places her new treasure alongside the painted oil lamp on the lace covered table, smiling. Somehow, there is a new warmth in that corner, almost a presence, and definitely a story to be discovered or imagined. She feels less alone. They both do.
Photo provided by Tess Kinkaid at Magpie Tales. Go take a look for lots of good reading!
