Saturday, October 14

but beautiful, still. I bought this paperweight to give to a friend but the friend, who was ill, died before I had a chance. I never had the heart to regift it to anyone else. (Not even sure if that counts as "regifting" but you know what I mean.) I had thought it was beautiful, so I just kept it, for its own beauty as well as a memento of the friend. I don't have a collection of paperweights, this is the only one, and it drifts around the house, from shelf to window to table as the mood takes the various family members. It became a beloved object of my son Henry, who is autistic and has mental retardation. I think he loved the smoothness and the light catching qualities but also, unfortunately, he enjoyed its "heft." It acquired several big chips and myriad scratches from being hurled by our resident shot putter. Henry throws things, both in his frequent and sudden rages and also in paroxysms of joy. Always thankful it didn't connect with anyone's skull. Anyway, it wears its war wounds with great dignity and beauty, still.

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