The Painting

This is a fictional story written for Sandra’s Writer’s Workshop Blog Hop about a possession that means the world to me.

    Edie loved nothing better than a road trip that included exploring small towns and shops.  Today she had headed north into Michigan for a drive along the coast line of Lake Michigan.   For some reason she was always fascinated with antiques and loved collecting them.  She loved the glassware when it sparkled as the sunlight hit it inside her china cabinet.  She loved the china dolls in all their finery.  She adored the china cats.   Precious treasures made a house a home in Edie’s opinion and she was always on the lookout for just one more spectacular addition to her collection.

     She drove into another small burg and spotted a small obscure antique shop along the main drag with a large open sign in the window.  She quickly found a space and eased her car into it.  She had been through this little town many times but this was the first time she had noticed this shop.  After locking the car door, she grabbed her purse and made a bee line for the shop advertising antiques in the front window.  A bell jingled as she pushed open the door.  The shop seemed deserted at first.  The clerk came out of the back room offered her a friendly hello and a promise of help with anything if needed.  “I am just browsing, thank you”, Edie said with a smile.  Among the large collection of dishes, china dolls, and other knick knacks she noticed several paintings leaning against the far wall near the back of the store.  She normally never went for paintings; still she was drawn to where they were on display.

     One painting sitting along the wall stopped her in her tracks.  Framed in an ornate brown frame, the subject of the painting was a little girl with golden brown curls fast asleep in a white and gold brass bed.  Standing guard over her was a white dog.  There was a stained glass window of green, blue, and muted gold in the background and a large ornate blue flowered vase filled with lilies at the head of the bed.  What was even more extraordinary about the painting was that the little girl could have been her twin when she was that age and the dog resembled a faithful pet she had owned when she was a little girl.  

     There was little doubt in Edie’s mind that she had to buy this picture and she said a silent prayer that she could afford it.  The clerk had noticed how interested she seemed, and wandered to her side.  “How much do you want for the painting?” Edie breathed with unconcealed excitement.  The clerk nodded toward the painting and named her price and Edie jubilantly agreed to pay it.  She had to have this painting!

      With a smile that lit up the shop, Edie counted out the bills and then hugged her painting to her breast as she rushed to her car.  She felt giddy and over the moon with excitement.  She couldn’t wait to return home and hang up her new painting.  Since the little girl was sound asleep Edie felt the perfect place for the painting would be on the east wall of her bedroom.  She hung it in precisely that spot when she returned home and it looked perfect.  It looked as if it had always been there.  It belonged there.   In the gilded brownish frame the little girl dressed in a blue nightgown slept on white sheets, under a soft pink blanket, and flowered green coverlet.  The white dog sat on the bed behind her watching her sleep.  She was at peace, and a subtle smile formed on her lips.  

        Years past, and Edie’s daughter loved imagining that the sleeping little girl was in fact her mother.  The painting had a certain serenity that her daughter loved as much as her mother before her.  The painting hung in the same spot for years.  Time passed, and Edie died.  Of all of her possessions, the painting called to her daughter much as it had drawn Edie in the beginning.  She had to have it!!  It made her happy just to look into it.  It made her smile.  It made her feel as if her mother hadn’t left after all. 

       She claimed the painting, took it home, and hung it in her living room so she could see it everyday and remember the little girl her mother must have been, the woman she became, and the mother that would live forever in her heart.  Even today it still makes her happy until next time when I give you another glimpse into the life of a trucker’s wife.