Free Kaleidoscope by Tracy Campbell Page A

environment. Honestly, I felt a bit bad for the figurines as I wandered towards them. I know that sounds silly, but I imagined how it must feel to be new and prized, then to fade a bit with age, become forgotten, and finally be abandoned through no fault of their own. Sometimes perspectives change, or needs change...sometimes people move and they have to get rid of some stuff to accommodate a smaller space. It was discouraging to think about.
    As I continued walking, my eyes  fell on a group of what appeared to be lawn gnomes, nestled together in a choir-like group on one of the shelves beneath a counter. I bent forward to look at them; they were all of different colors and sizes. It was obvious that they didn't go together at all, but they were grouped in their similarity to make a rather motley group of gnomes.
    Among them was one gnome in particular. He was the smallest of the group, and he was certainly the happiest of them all. Others were painted with smiling expressions, but this little guy was so happy that his eyes squinted almost completely shut. His gentle, earthy color scheme contrasted sharply with the bright blues and reds that decorated several of the larger figurines.
    I carefully picked him up, inspecting the detail that someone put into crafting this small thing. Holding it felt right, and suddenly I had a strange affinity for this figurine, an attachment that I often felt to random objects I identified with. It was a weird phenomenon, and most people didn't believe me when I said I could “feel” a history behind a material object, but I really felt like I could.
    I looked around, spotting my mother thumbing through some of the sweaters on a rack of clothing. “Mom,” I called to her, walking towards her at a fast pace as I spoke. “Can I get this?” I held the small gnome out as far as my arm would let me, right in her face.
    She ignored the annoying way in which I presented it and glanced at the figurine from out of the corner of her eye. “Why sure honey, you can get the...er...” she paused to inspect the object in my hand. “...is that a lawn gnome? Well, I've seen you ask for weirder things...go ahead and hold onto it, I think I'm going to buy this sweater.” She brushed her long, golden hair off of her shoulders and held a purple sweater with orange embellishments up to her bosom. “What do you think?”
    “Well, I've seen you buy weirder things,” I said with a smile.
     
    ***
     
     
    I don't know how long I'd been lost in my reverie, but when I came out of it, Mom was staring at me in a concerned fashion, offering the figurine for me to take and appearing to have been trying to do so for a decent amount of time. I lowered my eyes and gingerly took it in my palm, turning the figurine with my fingers on both hands and inspecting it, just as I had done that first day that I got him. It still felt the same, three years later. I was relieved to discover this, and a smiled faintly.
    “I...I completely forgot I'd ever even asked you to buy this for me. Until now I mean.”
    “But you remember now,” Mom said, both as a realization to herself and to finalize it, as if by not acknowledging my memory that the instance might slip away. To be honest, I felt the same way myself.
    “Thanks Mom, you've been really helpful,” I said in earnest, crawling from the worn armchair. “I should probably go write this down, in case I forget. Also I need to find a place for this little guy.” With that, I made my way up the stairs, my mother staring after me. I'm sure she was flooded with relief that there was hope for her crazy daughter, after all.
    “If I don't see you before you go to bed, then goodnight honey,” she called after me.
    “Goodnight.” I quietly shut my bedroom door behind me.
     
     
     
     

 
    CHAPTER EIGHT
     
     
     
     
    That evening, I did my best to write everything down with as much detail as I could in the few pages I had left. My journal, as diminutive as it was, had