The Crackled Vase – ( Audio – Click More )

December 14, 2018

As a little girl, Sapphire loved flowers. She picked daisies and buttercups as she ran through the fields even gathered flowering weeds. Then breathless she tumbled into her grandmother’s kitchen. She pulled open cupboards searching for the right vase to arrange them.

‘Gran, gran, look what I have picked for you.’ She called out. Gran would appear. The overflowing vase filled her with love.

‘Oh, what a clever girl, my favourite flowers.’ She hugged and kissed her only granddaughter.

Young Sapphire made up her mind, she would run a flower shop in the nearby town when she was older.

Glass vases fascinated Sapphire ever since she was a young girl. When asked what she would like for Christmas she would reply, ‘a beautiful vase, please. It does not have to be shiny, bright and new. But a vase that has a history and tells a story. It can be in vintage glass, shades of pink, green or blue.’

When Sapphire reached twenty a most handsome young man visited her flower shop. His name was Caspian and he was glass blower. On their first date, he presented Sapphire with a handful of wild lilies and a handmade vase; the edges dipped in gold.

‘Inspired by your blazing eyes; they remind me of long hot summer days and the colours of topaz blue.’ Caspian gazed longingly at Sapphire.

Sapphire was swept away by his thoughtful gift of mosaic blue glass. She instantly they fell in love.

Years passed; cracks appeared in the hand painted vase. Sapphire did her best to mend them but deep down she knew it was also a sign. Caspian and herself would not stand the test of time.

‘It is not the perfect love we so wished for,’ she cried tears of sorrow and returned the vase.

Fifty Years Later 

It was Christmas Eve and Izzy frantically walked up and down the cobbled streets. She gazed through the windows of antique shops, searching for the perfect gift to please her Grandma.

Suddenly she was drawn to a dark and narrow lane.

Izzy stopped by a door of peeling red paint that held a faded shop sign above her head. In the window sat a lone vase in hues of mosaic blue and gold. She rang the doorbell and stepped in. Candles pushed into antique silver candlestick holders flickering shadows across the room.

A craggy-faced man appeared. Still handsome, he smiled as Izzy pointed to the vase on a crimson velvet cushion. ‘What is your asking price?’

‘So, you wish to buy my prized vase, but my dear it is not for sale?’

Izzy looked at this old man, puzzled. ‘But why leave it in the window for all to see?’

The old man tapped his finger to his nose. ‘There is a story to this vase. It is one of love.’

‘But it’s the perfect Christmas gift for my grandmother. I simply have to buy it. It reminds me of the fire and colour in her eyes. Her name is Sapphire but Gran to me.’ Izzy pleaded with him.

Shaken by Izzy’s words the man stood with his head down. Several minutes passed and eventually, he looked up, found his voice and spoke in tones, filled with emotion.

‘This magical vase and it’s crackled imperfections have finally allowed the light of a never-ending love to shine again. It is yours at no cost, but I have one condition.’

Izzy clapped her hands in delight.

She knew her grandmother would be overjoyed.

‘You have nothing to fear my dear, but my condition is we sit awhile and share a pot of tea. It is time to reveal our stories of a lady who I believe we both truly love.’

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