The Cherry on top

~1. Threads of kindness

We might be many things but,

we are all a reflection of the darkness the world possesses.

Everyone dealing with their lot,

and a great number learning their lessons.

We might seem of lesser worth next to greater works,

with only so much we could do.

But with some sincere acts and uplifting words,

we could make the art of living a little more bearable.

                                                                                       ***

I do not intend to brag as I say this, but I am the first and only embodiment of a concept conceived of long ago but have failed to be actualized to a reality.

A figment of an original imagination copied many times over; Once I was nothing but a mere wish by many, with the desire for the medium I travel by to turn back.

By now, if you are of average wits, it is likely you have figured out what I'm all about. If not, well...

Once again, it is not my intention to boast but you could call me a special time traveler. You may ask why but take it that I'm just a little different from the preconceived version you have of me.

The thing is, I do not come from a specific timeline and no, I most definitely do not alter past events and disturb your cliché space-time continuum. I also do not stick my nose into the businesses of the future; I think it should remain a mystery. 

'What makes me a time traveler then?' You may wonder. Well, I'm just a humble observer, not caught by the eye, reminiscing on acts of kindness, great or small, shown throughout history.

                                                                                              ***

Alas! The Michael Angelo and Davinci era! A time period that marked the rebirth of classical art, philosophy and literature after The Medieval--The Renaissance. Spanning between the 14th and 17th century, it was a wonderful time of flourishing beauty as well as creativity and curiosity. A time when some new continents were not just discovered but explored! That, coupled with the growth of commerce, it was an awakening period to live in.

A certain Matteo Lorenzo subsisted during this era; a middle-aged, Italian native of humble background and an even more modest lifestyle. Passing by his shop, no one failed to notice the experience his fingers showed as he painstakingly converted fiber into fabric; his sole means of livelihood housed by a dilapidated shed.

Every day, his shop sold well and his handiwork blessed with numerous praises as the likes of carpet rugs, weaved clothing materials and baskets were bought by satisfied customers. Although his craft had considerable patronage, weaving could make one only so rich. Yet by his ever-satisfied demeanor and zeal to work each day, Matteo was content.

It would not be far-fetched to say it was an epoch-making day for Matteo as he came back home from work after a long day. He had run out of weaving materials and the only cause on his mind was to find some leftovers. A search of no avail had ticked him off a bit till it bloomed into curiosity when an aged, small bag caught his eye. Like a vulture keen to feast on carcass, he frantically ransacked the bag having no mercy on its seemingly delicate parts. No, he did not find any leftover weaving materials, instead, an item on sheer serendipity found home in his grasp. 

Like a whiplash, bittersweet memories came flooding through his mind; memories related to the old, slightly disheveled, dusty storybook of few leaves. Oh, how the story had brought him so much pleasure and peace. How it seemed to have a new meaning each time his mother read to him before bedtime. Lorenzo found it hard to believe that he had forgotten such a gem still existed; one that had impacted his childhood immensely and was brought to life by the only family he had known apart from his uncle.