This is a bit of a sob story. Let Auntie Guylty tell you a tale of loss and longing…
There once was a shrine order that was to be a special gift, a little box of cheer that contained a beautiful man and a reminder of a home far away. The little craftress, who lovingly compiled the shrines, looked carefully through her stash of tins. “Pick me!” the wide tins were calling out to her, “I am shiny and brand new!”. But the craftress was not convinced. “I am the one for this shrine!” said the tiny mint tins in unison, but the craftress wanted something bigger than them. She rummaged sadly through her box of tins. She didn’t want small, and she didn’t want wide. She had nearly resigned herself to her fate when she found an unassuming, shy little tin right at the bottom of the pile. It was almost square, and worn. But the years had left a patina of beauty on the tin. “Who are you?” said the craftress to the tin. “I am old and plain”, the tin said. “My shine is gone, and my lid has been dented. I may look tired, but I am special, because I have travelled the world… I come from KatharineD in Australia…” “You are perfect for the recipient. You are the one!”, the little craftress said, and she lovingly caressed the tin and gave it a happy magnet to display on the lid.
“You will remind your new owner of her home – gritty and pretty and special. And I’ll fill you with New York…”
And so the little craftress cut and glued and pasted and adorned. She placed a recent New Yorker into the tin and let him emerge from the mist, in all his New York glory.
And because fruit is good for you, she placed some peaches and apples in the tin, as well. This, she hoped, would make the new owner of the shrine not only think of her beloved home, but also make her smile.
With one last look of longing – for the little craftress also had a soft spot for the gorgeous New Yorker – she closed the lid, carefully wrapped the shrine and put it in the post to send it on a long journey, far away, to its new home.
Many weeks passed. The recipient waited and waited. No shrine arrived with the post. The little craftress was very sad. The shrine had been lost. Only the pictures, and the memory of making the tin remain. The truth of where the tin went, is shrouded in the mist of the international postal service. But the little craftress is already rummaging through her stash of tins again…
There. Sad but true. The RAPS hasn’t made it to Perry who commissioned it. This is the first time a RAPS got lost – or stolen?. Well, one in 49 – that is not too bad a statistic. And of course Perry will get another shrine.