I sit and study this delicate figurine, I start to think about my
great-grandma who has been sick lately. I just recently received this
gift. I pick it up and run my finger along the rim of the basket and
feel a totally smooth texture, even though it is bumpy. When I push my
finger along the outside of the handle, I sense what feels like pure
ice with a soft touch. Suddenly, as it sits in the palm of my hand, I
feel a scratchy surface. I gently pick up the basket by the handle and
look at the bottom; that is when I notice a place where the lip of the
bottom has been broken off.
As I examine the basket more closely, I see that two of the flowers
have been broken off also, leaving only one more flower. The remaining
flower stands significantly proud, beautiful, and bold. Then I think of
how the other flowers were broken off; maybe they were broken when my
great-grandmother was sharing it with a friend or cherishing it quietly
somewhere she could be alone. Maybe they were broken when one of her
brothers got a hold of it and somehow damaged them.
It could have been only one of her many figurines with really no
significance, but maybe it was one of her most cherished and loved. I
know that among my other figurines and ornaments, this is one of the
more fascinating and beautiful ones.