Imari

         “I am Imari. I am from the Pacific region. I am not sure just

exactly where I am from. Now, it is just after the second world war

started. It was a Japanese family that had taken us in, and they had

loved us very much. They loved us for the whole time that we

were  there.

But, then, during the war, our house was somewhat blown

apart. Amy was killed, and Sandra was burned badly. We had done

nothing wrong. Why, then, had this nightmare been dropped upon

our lovely home?”

         I was number four out of four. Soon it was realized that the

third one of us had been shattered beyond hope and was buried

somewhere in the city. Direction had become so distorted under

the duress of the times. It was a teary and morbid scene. For me,

especially, since I was number four. It could have destroyed me!

Thankfully, I was lucky.

         Sandra came back to the house three weeks later. Sure, she

was different. I still loved the attention that she gave me and the

way she admired me for what I was. I relished it!

         Things suddenly got bad, really bad. No goodbyes, and it was

off to a new place. It was called Hungary. Must admit that I really

liked the name, as it was very appealing to my soul.

         I don’t know now that I even made it to Hungary, but I found

myself alone, nervous and without purpose.

         This new environment was somewhat friendly. Quiet during

the day, but then lots of noise at night. Lots!

         The cuokoo clock would go off every hour. The phone would

ring occasionally. The silver spoon on the table would occasionally

glimmer in my direction.

         But, my others? My family? Hungary?

         Great Britain was my next home.

         A woman had come through the door, and then I was off to

England. I had heard in passing that it was a nice place, and a bit

safer.

         It was very pleasant in London at first. One young lady in

London decided I was to be hers, and she stashed me away in the

very back of the lowest drawer of her dresser.

         “Marie,” her mom said. “Have you seen it? And the cucumbers?”

         “No, m’am, not it, nor any cucumbers.”

         Under suspicion.

         Marie was on the cusp of feeble-minded folk.

         Moved. I was moved. Again. Under a floorboard for a very

long time.

         Then, to Montreal, Quebec. French Canada.

         “Jancina, please pass it to Francois,” her nanny directed “And

be careful!”

“Very good, the fresh apple slices are delicious!”, Helga

exclaimed.

         I was alive. Truly alive! I loved it more than they did.

However, I missed my true family. I was Japanese, I think . . . It

didn’t seem to be important to anyone but me.

         That nasty little girl was very evil. She put me in a small attic

closet and locked the door. Told me that no clinking or clattering

would be tolerated. Otherwise, she would shatter my existence.

         I accepted it. I was scared.

         A very long time passed. Jancina explained to me that I was

too fragile to be downstairs with the rest.

         Somehow I was now in Dallas, Texas, USA. I wasn’t sure

where this was, but it seemed friendly. Lots of air and sunlight.

They took very good care of me, and they kept me clean.

         One day, Mike walked in. His partner, Hal, was with him.

         “Oh, Mike,” Hal said with surprise. “It’s Imari ware!”

         “I don’t see anyone. Who is Imari Ware, anyway . . . ?” Mike

inquired.

         No response from Hal.

I felt so found. Hal knew who I was! He was my savior! In

Dallas, Texas . . .

         The door opened and then closed. “Where did Hal go?

Where did Hal go! Hal! Mike! Hal! Help! Come back!”

         Mike and Hal were three miles down the road en route to

Fort Worth, Texas.

         “I really liked the Imari, Mike. Maybe I should have . . .

         “Hal, let’s go back, then,” Mike suggested.

         “No, it’s expensive. It’s from a collection. Imari is from Japan . . . “

         “You like it, though?”

         “Yes, a lot!”

         Mike turned the car around. Now, Imari was Just four miles

back.

         “Howdy, we’re back again,” Mike spat out.

         “Something we had second thoughts about,” he explained.

         Hal walked to the back, right corner, and then pointed. Like

being on a hunt. It was a very beautiful bowl! How, and why, was it

here in Dallas, Texas?

         “I’m buying it for you, Hal. An early Happy Birthday.”

         “But, it’s expensive?”

         “$185 is expensive, but if it’s what charges you up . . .”

         “Oh, man, thanks Mike. I love it! A set of four would have

cost about $1,200 in Japan back thirty years ago,” Hal said

appreciatively. However, it was produced long before that!

         “Expensive then, and expensive now. But, look, we both feel

good,” Mike said confidently.

         A third train of thought existed in the car as it pressed on

toward Fort Worth.

         I feel good too! I can’t wait to find out where I’m going now.

My past is whirling in my mind. Number three was smashed so

long ago. I know nothing about number one and number two. So

long ago. Hal will become my new number three. Mike is like the

parent I can never remember. Maybe I can become complete

again, as it once was in Japan. So longed for . . .

         Brave new world . . .

         I am Imari, an antique Japanese bowl. I was lost for a long

time. I believe that I have been found!

         “Hal, your breakfast awaits you in your Imari bowl,” Mike

said sleepily.

         Mike then stumbled back to bed.

         ‘I’m home,’ Imari thought. ‘It’s been two centuries, but I think

I’m going to like my new home! Yes, indeed!’