Walking up Pike St. towards Piecora’s this evening, the glint of the setting sun off of the stones in this broach caught my eye. It was wedged into a knothole in a tree by the side of the street, about a foot above eye level. Missing stones let the gold tones of the metal shine, surrounded by the purples and blues of the remaining gems.
It looked like a child’s plaything, toy jewelry once prized as it adorned the dress of a young girl. Eventually lost as she walked down the street hand-in-hand with her mother, slipping away and bouncing into the gutter, small stones scattering across the sidewalk. Found by some random passerby when the glint of something shiny caught their eye. They picked it up and examined it, decided that it was worthless — an evaluation the little girl would be sure to argue — and, as they continued on their way through Seattle, they reached up and placed it into a convenient resting place on a tree.
There it sits, casting its small colored beams at people as they pass. Some glance up and wonder how it got there, most just walk by, not paying any attention at all.
And one young girl, slightly saddened by the loss of her pretty jewelry, asks her mom as she is tucked in at night if they can go back to the dollar store — where even a child’s allowance can uncover treasures beyond imagining — and find another sparkly for her outfit.
Smiling, her mother assures her that they will. One kiss on the forehead, and the young girl drifts off to sleep, to dance in the golds, blues, and purples of a child’s dreams.
“Back in My Life” by Alice DeeJay from the album Who Needs Guitars Anyway? (1999, 3:29).
