Surprised by light
She carried her new masterpiece, crafted carefully for 4 hours straight. The porcelain figure was perfect, glossed with blushes of pink around the cheeks, given a lacquered finish and a tender smile. It was perfect, yes. She had made for it a miniature lavender pleated dress and 2 black dress shoes of sheet plastic. For Sera had been waiting for this night for the whole of the past year. Tonight she would go to the festival and exchange a doll for a rose at the counter, and the one that selected the figure would hunt for her amidst the crowds. It was a tradition that never lost its novelty in the village, and this would be Sera's first year (and hopefully her last). But her usually serene exterior was betraying some signs of self-doubt. Is this real? Would it be cherished? And, more softly, when she was out of earshot, young Sera would sigh a most silken sigh, reminiscient of both resignation and reservation.
In an excited flurry she tripped over a rock near the red-brick trodden path, and in a second the figure loosed from her grip and fell to the ground. Shocked, she rushed forward to salvage her piece- but a hairline crack went through the back of it, and several large pieces had dislodged itself at the base. There were cracks underneath the pleated dress in the front, threatening to undo her craftsmanship. Her mind started to unravel, but she kept her cool, picking up the pieces and rushing to the store to buy paste to keep the figure together. But it was no use. The stress on the figure caused the legs and the base to crack and give way, and it would take more than a day to repair. There will be no tears. I will be going to the fair, she thought.
How her fate for the night had been sealed by a second's worth of carelessness. She clutched the other half of her figurine and went as far as her legs would take her into the night and the merrymaking. The smell of excitement washed an air of forgiveness over her almost immediately, but the bright lights from the hanging lanterns threatened to expose her want. She clutched the figure tightly and marched to the counter.
"Excuse me, I broke my figurine on the way. Would I still..."
"Broken? We accept no broken dolls, child. We ain't going to fix it, we ain't going to need it. Come back next year."
"But... it was an accident... I..."
"No excuses. I'm sorry."
And the big lady brusquely turned away from Sera, snorting and tending to a girl with a slender doll in an emerald gown. There will be no tears, she reminded herself. I'm a big girl now, I'm 17... I can go home and try again.
But she turned around and saw him with his kind, soft, smile. It was him from the bread shop, the one who always bought the 5 loaves and sundried tomatoes and asked for cracked pepper. She remembered because it was wednesdays when she went, too.
He reached out with a bandage. "You're bleeding. Dress it."
She hadn't noticed, but the edges of the broken doll had cut into her skin, and fresh blood formed a little track from her left palm to her ring finger.
"Thanks." She mustered a slight smile. Would he?
But she saw a glimpse of a doll in a pink skirt peeking out from the side of his satchel. He said no more, and swiftly set his eyes on the group of girls gathered at the toffee apple stand. His quick footsteps the other way told her it was time for her to go home.
So she walked, walked away from the crowd, the peals of laughter and the sweet treats, the teasing and the folk-dancing, the games and the plays. Her path home was dark, as usual, and she had counted on someone walking her home with a blazing torch that night. But she struggled to make out the lights beyond the shrubs and trees that pointed to home. The Northern Star was her only comfort.
And in a blessed act of providence, she noticed some lights dancing on the ground. Stopping in her tracks, she stooped down to see. A bottle of fireflies! Had someone dropped it along the way? She picked it up and it illumined the way home.
Safely in her room, away from the probing questions about what had been, she watched the fireflies dance their dance again. Thank you, she whispered, and she noticed a scroll of paper at the bottom of the bottle. She opened her window as she released the dear ones who had lead her home, and it was like a sprinkling of fairy dust into the midnight sky.
But what surprised her were the words on the parchment-
Some day, Sera.
"As the apple tree among the trees of the wood, so is my beloved among the sons. I sat down under his shadow with great delight, and his fruit was sweet to my taste. He brought me to the banqueting house, and his banner over me was love. Stay me with flagons, comfort me with apples: for I am sick of love. His left hand is under my head, and his right hand doth embrace me. I charge you, O ye daughters of Jerusalem, by the roes, and by the hinds of the field, that ye stir not up, nor awake my love, till he please."- Song of Solomon 2: 3-7