(The boomerang that returns.)
I waited two years for it to come back. And yesterday, without my knowledge or permission. Without my asking or pleading. She placed it in my hand.
I chose the Starbuck’s at Barnes and Noble in the Galleria because I could walk to it within minutes. We had planned to have coffee, to visit of course. No chairs were available. (Which I can see now was clearly by design.) She said we could walk around a little. My feet, already on yes, were darting out into the mall. Climbing the stairs to the main floor, she said they had just acquired a new sponsor for their podcast. (I had done their podcast about a year ago. That’s how we met.) Somehow I knew which store it would be. She asked if I had ever been to “Sweet Ivy.” I smiled. (You’re probably smiling too.) That was my mom’s name, I said. She knew how much my mom meant to me from our interview. We started walking toward the store.
No, I said, I hadn’t been inside the store. I couldn’t. It first opened just as my mom passed away. Waiting for the next flight back to France, I walked the Galleria Mall. I saw the name of the new store. This “Sweet Ivy.” The tears flowed. I couldn’t go in. It was all too fresh. My mom loved fashion. We shared that. Deeply. We walked that mall a million times. Took the pictures. Gave the compliments. Shared the laughs. Hung packages on wrists. This love, this friendship, ever en vogue.
But yesterday, it was time. It was more than easy. My hesitation was carried by my new friend, and we went, nearly skipped like school girls, into the Sweet Ivy. I shared my story again. Gave out my business cards. Explained paintings. Laughed. Sipped the coffee. From mother to store, the Ivy connected. The woman behind the counter reached over to a rack of gorgeous, and pulled out a blouse, a blouse that couldn’t have Ivy-ed more — she said it’s a small, put it on, and from what I can only imagine was my mother’s hand, she placed it in mine. The boomerang had returned.
Of course it fit. Everything fits. In its time. In its place. I suppose we throw them daily, these boomerangs. Never knowing which one will return. Nor when. I guess you just have to be ready. Open. And grab on with all your might when they do.
So I hike up the cuffed sleeves of this beautiful silk, and tell you the story, giving it a mighty fling, knowing love will always return.
*** https://www.theviewinyourmirror.com/ (podcast)
*** https://www.galleriaedina.com/directory-04/sweetivy
