Our Lights Welcome You Home...|
So one day the brown truck pulls up to the shop and itís the skinny UPS guy, the one with the bad habit of stabbing the "sign it form" at me when he needs a signature. Heís delivering one my boxes. My first thought was, "Ah shoot, we got a returnee...what happened now?" Glass is more of an idea than a substance. It cracks easily.
When I opened the box, it was indeed one of my lights and it was indeed cracked. But it wasnít regularly cracked, like in half or a chunk out of the lip. This one was broken in lots and lots of pieces, many smaller than a dime and it was scotched taped back together. It wasnít glued, it was taped. Odd. Taped to the scotch-taped light was a note asking me to phone the sender.
The sender turned out to be a really nice woman with a soulfully kind voice asking me for help (I canít remember her name, so if you read this, call and let me know your name). Anyway, she said that she is living in White Fish, Montana and had purchased the light from us at a street fair. So I ask her what I can do for her. In my head Iím ready to get defensive and tell her that I canít fix it, when she tells me whatís what.
She says that for years, the light was hung over her kitchen sink and it was her light. Odd. So then she tells me what broke the light. Her husband was fixing the sink one day and heíd forgotten to shut off the water completely. When he unscrewed the cold water handle, it shot straight up in the air, hit and smashed her light. She said that he felt so bad that he found as many pieces of glass that he could and spent hours taping it back together.
I let the silent mourning hang for a minute... then she asks, "Could I make her another?"
I told her that Iíd made that light a few years before but trying to remake it was like trying to remake an omelet from two years ago... but Iíd try. She expressed her thanks and says do your best. And I did, and I sent it off.
A week goes by and I get phone call from her. Again Iím ready to get defensive, but before I do, she kindly says in a very satisfied tone "Thanks for the light... Itís a keeper."
We chat for a bit, and she said that sheís really grateful for the second one, adding "You know, I knew I was home when I walked into my kitchen and turned on my light". Another pause and then, "Thanks... I can be home again."