About two weeks ago, I set a figurine on a fencepost overlooking the Fox Chase Farm – it borders Lorimer Park, where I often walk or run. (Here is that account if you’d like to know more).
Now, let me tell you some more chapters to this story. A few days after the figurine was set in place, I went back to visit the site and see how she was doing. I could tell as I walked up the path she was no longer there – the shape on the fencepost wasn’t right.
Imagine my surprise and happiness when I realized that someone had taken her and left a tiny blue-green pot – very delicate, almost the color of a robin’s egg – in her place. I picked it up and saw a scrap of paper inside – telling me to take it if I wished, the same message I put into the hollow space in my figurines.
For a bit, I thought about it – should I take the pot myself, or should I leave it for someone else? I decided that I would complete a circle rather being part of a line – so I now have the little pot in my kitchen to look at and remember the feeling of belonging in some kind of ordered world, even if just for a moment.
But I also felt I needed to return the gesture. I don’t usually repeat a location, the exception being the grotto in this same park, because I want each situation to be one-of-a-kind, not rote, not a chore, not a task. This time, though, something told me to continue.
So I took this little figurine there a couple of days ago. She’s got a history – I had set her in another park, but she was too far out of sight, and I felt she’d tried hard enough when I visited here a week or so ago and she was covered with pine needles. I brought her home, gave her a bath, and now – here she is.
It’s all been such a good experience for me. I am grateful.