Bird
"what one little crane can do"
I used to be afraid of birds. In all actualities, I still am. Knowing that, makes the story that is unfolding in my life even more ironic, if possible. If I close my eyes I can put myself back in the moment when I first met my business partner. How could I have known that meeting Michael would set my life on an unpredictable path, possibly creating chapters I once never imagined being written. How could I have known that while standing behind my counter, nearly in tears, saying yes to a new artisan in my busiest season when I promised myself no more new consignors till after the holidays, would change my life forever? Saying yes to carrying paper cranes, agreeing to terms beyond my wildest imagination as a small, single divorced, mom of three, business owner, would perhaps make one of the greatest positive changes to my world. The short answer is, I couldn’t know. I said yes, like many times before on blind faith to something unknown and therefore creating limitless possibilities for a new chapter to be written.
I certainly couldn’t know that four years later Freya would walk into Lucy & Moosey’s Gifts holding a crane stick. How could I have known that she was celebrating her boyfriend’s birthday by spending a cold, damp Sunday in Kennebunkport or that she was a teacher at my boyfriend’s yoga studio? Even in my wildest imagination I can’t believe that I would have predicted the moment that had unfolded and in some quiet, wonderful way was a sign to let me know everything is always working out for the best even in the most chaotic and darkest times humanity has to offer. That’s the thing about life, it sneaks up on us when we least expect it. Just when we think we have every thing figured out, it comes knocking and lets us know it’s only getting started.
When Michael and I began our relationship, I referred to him as the “Crane Guy.” He was quickly becoming known as the man who was folding thousands of cranes and reinventing origami as an art form on the Seacoast. He began placing his chains of cranes in other shops, I encouraged him. Hundreds were selling in mine, we began dreaming up other ways in which the cranes could be put together, and the affirmation cranes were born. Michael began volunteering Saturdays in my shop, our partnership was evolving into a friendship. I met his partner who became a wonderful friend and another new chapter was born. Excitement was contagious and Michael created more new ideas, crane cards, wishing stars, and even tried to sell me on the idea of cranes on sticks. I smiled and shook my head, he had gone one crane too far and my little shop was already overflowing. I had finally said no thinking that would be the end of that. I couldn’t get on board with a crane on top of what seemed like a bamboo skewer to me. Something didn’t feel right about it.
A year and a bit later after uncountable cranes were sold and Michael and I had cemented our friendship, I decided to close my shop for good. I was fried, toast, and missing Libby’s senior year. My baby was on the precipice of adulthood and I was missing it. I had given up my front row seat to nurture and care for a business that wasn’t taking care of me. Ancient history of course, all now in my rear view mirror. Libby graduated, went off to college, George and I began making a home together, Michael branched out to new shops and continued folding cranes, and I recovered from decades of spinning my wheels and what felt like chasing my own tail, never really getting anywhere. Until last fall when Michael asked me to open a new shop with him. I took a deep breath. I already felt as though shopkeeping wasn’t for me, not for the lack of trying, but it always led me to a place in which I felt as though I was hitting my head against a wall no matter what I tried or how I changed things up.
Then a little birdie told me about a space in Kennebunk. Michael and I had been considering going on the road, doing pop up shows, stretching to see what we may see. Nothing was clicking for long even when we drove together up route one and pulled into 37 Western Ave. It was cold and icy. We put our hands against the windows to see what we could see and wondered out loud. Both spaces had possibility written on them but seemed too small, too far, and perhaps too close to being underground. We drove back less than enthused and kept our options open. We had agreed not to settle. We knew the perfect hole in the wall would appear and when it did we would be ready.
Four months later, on a chilly gray Sunday I found myself restocking product from Luci’s Lather Labs to the left of Joy Lane Farms and just above The Filthy Lobster. It felt as if I was straddling two timelines, one in which I never left A Little Something and one in which I was a business partner of Lucy & Moosey’s Gifts in Kennebunk, Maine. I had arrived without the aid of a Psychedelic. I had become Alice without ever having to “eat or drink me.” Our beautiful antique shop bell rung bright and vibrantly pulling me back to the here and now. In walked a handsome young couple. I looked up and smiled as I welcomed them both. Something immediately caught my eye. The young woman was carrying a crane on a stick, not any crane on a stick but the exact same one a little girl had chosen as a free gift from our shop the day before. It was the one and only crane on a stick that had left the shop. Michael and I had decided to offer cranes on a stick as a freebie to all those that found our little shop. I had given in after all these years and finally wrapped my heart around the idea of it being either a wonderful houseplant stake or magical wand. People seemed to LOVE them as much as Michael and I had finally gotten on board.
I couldn’t take my eyes off the crane stick. She must of thought I was a bit odd. I finally asked, “where did you find that bird.”
She tilted her head and smiled and asked if I knew George. I smiled. I replied that I was his girlfriend. She then connected the dots of how we might know one another. I nodded and realized quickly that she was Freya. I still didn’t know why she was carrying the little girl’s crane from yesterday. The little girl and her family were staying in Maine for the weekend, they were from Rhode Island. After getting on the same page, thanking them for showing up at the shop, we finally arrived at the point in which the story of the bird unfolded. I felt giddy in the moment, knowing what I knew about my original feelings about the crane stick, realizing suddenly that it was showing off a little magic of its own, and having had wanted to meet the yoga instructor who wanted to introduce a book group to George’s studio, everything was feeling very much like a meet cute of my very own. I was just falling for a paper crane, not the love of my life.
They were celebrating his birthday with a romantic walk through Kennebunkport and had stopped to get coffee. They were making their way over the bridge and stumbled upon something peculiar, out of place, a crane on a stick nesting on the top of the rail. They decided to take it with them, coincidentally they were on their way to Lucy & Moosey’s ( I think) and were surprised to see our name attached to the crane. I could only imagine the little girl placing the crane ever so gently on top of the rail, giving it its freedom to rest and fly away when ready. I’m still not certain if Freya and her boyfriend were on their way to the shop or not but I’m certain George has been telling all of his students and teachers about Lucy & Moosey’s. That’s what he does, he. continues to show up for everything I do.
Long story short. They took their time browsing as we got to know one another. I asked her about the book group and what they were reading. Most of me wanted to say that I would be there but I held back. I offered them to trade in the crane for a new one, described how it makes a lovely plant stake or magical wand. Freya paused thoughtfully. She pulled back the original crane closer to her and said, “I’m going to keep this one and plant it on the bridge to see who might come upon it next.” I smiled and nodded. I couldn’t have written it better myself. I was surprised when her boyfriend reached for a new crane and said he wanted to do the same. I thanked them both, they had made my quiet little morning into something very magical in the shop. I could feel the invisible gears clicking into place and knew that Michael and I had made the right decision to open the shop. Saying “yes” when I wasn’t sure of what it would bring to my life seems to be working out very nicely.
Uncertainty and chaos does work its way out for the best. I’m living proof. I couldn’t wait to call Michael. What a wonderful story I had to tell. I relayed the facts as I could best remember, embellishing a bit about the parts I couldn’t know. Imagining the way the crane stick ended up on the top rail of an iconic bridge in a coastal Maine town was too good not to. I laughed out loud when Michael’s response was, “why did she abandon her crane?”
I told him he was missing the bigger point. Something magical was in the works, something we didn’t dream up or try to make happen. The magical crane on a stick was spreading its wings and rising from the ashes to see where it could travel on its own.
So there you have it, The Life of a Shopkeeper in Maine. It may not always be glamorous or create untold riches and wealth but it overflows with its very own special sort of abundance and I think I like it.
On a side note, if you’d like to join Freya in her yoga class, the next book they are reading is The Sound of a Wild Snail Eating and is at Yoga on York - April 19th, 4:00pm! You might see me there, well most likely not but I really want to try to be there.
Yoga on York - 250 York Street - York, Main
