Pixabay.com
The little blue vase simply appeared one day. I remember that the night before I hadn’t slept much. The wind was howling, windows rattling, and cold air swept across my nose which was sticking out from under the down coverlet. Moving from one side to the other every thirty minutes, the grit grinding into my half-closed eyes made me want to leave the warmth for the relief of eye drops.
I gave up before dawn, dragged my shivering self across the cold tile, finding blessed reprieve in the cool drops. I knew sleep would not come. Dressed in my underlayer of long-handles, I stood waiting for the coffee to finish perking, mug in hand. Deep blue and gracefully tapered at top and bottom, this delicate glass vase stood there on the other side of the counter separated from the coffee pot side by the stove.
Leaving the mug by the coffee, I side-stepped past the stove and picked it up. Smooth and cool, it gave me a feeling that I’d seen it before somewhere and it’d been important to me. “Where did you come from?” I think I expected it to answer me. I should have been checking the doors and windows, searching for an intruder, but, who would break into a home and leave something?
