Mercadillo del Jueves

He sits hunched over his workbench.

At first glance, he is old;

sinew and bone, skin like leather,

but his hands are deft, 

those of a much younger man.

Momentarily he looked up, gave

a gap toothed smile, that made me

ashamed of the amount I once spent 

on cosmetic dentistry; during a time

 when pride, as opposed to pride 

in myself, ruled the day.

Suddenly then, he reached out and

curled a hand around my left wrist.

It made me jump, take a step back,

and he laughed, then in perfect                                

lilting English, said, 

'for your size missy.'

I watched, entranced, 

as with bewildering speed

he wove his magic. Thin silver 

wire linking two outer rows

of multi faceted rose pink beads, 

interweaved in the centre

with blood red, cone shaped crystals

that dazzled in the still bright afternoon sun.

'Real silver missy," he said, another

smile as he dug into a frayed leather bag

and produced a simple spring clasp.

'Only two euros extra.'

I nodded absently, more interested

in the artist, than the artistry. His age 

was impossible to guess; though the 

invincibility of youth had long passed,

and there was a gentleness about him

that older, more wiser men often possess;

and I was calmed, an oasis in the frantic

cacaphony of the street market,

where time froze as he completed his task.

'Thank you, it is beautiful,' I managed

as he held out the bracelet for

my inspection. 'How much?'

'Eight euros' he said, 

then leaned down and kissed

the bracelet. 'you are protected now.'

I smiled, then paid less than the price of a 

taxi ride back to my hotel, for a memory

that is locked in my mind forever.

Lost in the moment, as pride in our species, 

as opposed to simply pride, ruled the day.

Reviews

[andrew mitchell]

Nice work Beccy. Lovely imagery!

[Chris Shaw]

This is a beautiful memory Beccy that will always stay with you. A wonderful read.

Chris

[Kelly Scheppers]

"...in the cacaphony of the street market
where time froze..."

Beautiful story telling, Beccy. This is writing to aspire to, something tangible and cognizant to the heart.

[emmajoy]

I've tears in my eyes - you know/understsand why. To read beautiful language that has more than form is glorious. I love, love, love the special, precious emotions and appreciation you've shared in this, Beccy. But, you always post the finest posts: more than words they are.. more like blessings of affection for whatever you've laid down. Here you keep memories wrapped in wonderful words: you've honoured that dear man and his absolute skill.

This is writing.

[Paul Bell]

What's great about this is. You're watching as the artist makes it.
Makes it all the more special.
Wear it with pride.

[Patricia Wedel]

dear Becca... a gentle lovely touch of soft feelings and love for the spirit of an artist who knows the true value of silver and bright beads to complement your heart. truly, Pat

[Neville]

What beautiful recollections Beccy and with you always for sure....these are the ones we treasure, aren't they.... and made this old fella smile.............. Neville

[jacob erin-cilberto]

what a beautiful memory...people can really surprise us...often we judge on looks...you show what is beautiful inside of people...that pride of self rather than the outward pride that makes us think we are better than others.
j.

[charlie]

A wonderful story so beautifully told.
The story telling is seamless, Beccy. Crisp, vivid, bright and sonorous with imagery.
Your authorship matches the craftsmanship of the bracelet itself, with thin silver wires , blood-red cones, rose-pink beads running through most every line. Your hand is deft, and I have paid still less for the memory.
Thank you, kindly.