The Unbroken Vase

Gloricat meowed and scratched at the front door. She almost never went in and out of the front door, much preferring the privacy of the back yard.

“What’s with you?” asked Sandy. “Did you hear somebody outside?” Sandy opened the front door and found a familiar package on the door mat. Gloricat pushed past Sandy’s legs and rubbed against the box as if she had been waiting all her life for this moment.

Sandy broke up the cat’s love affair with the box and carried both into the kitchen. “I didn’t order anything,” she muttered to herself. The box had originated at an Amazon facility, but Sandy quickly saw that it hadn’t come directly from there. The original recipient had marked over the address with a black marker and resealed the box with heavy-duty masking tape. Sandy smiled, remembering the boxes that had come from her grandmother who was fond of reusing shipping boxes and sealing them with silver masking tape.

There was a return address in the upper left corner. A familiar address. Grandma Gloria’s address.

This can’t be! Sandy thought. Grandma Gloria died two years ago. In fact, she died exactly two years ago today. Someone is playing a trick on me, and it isn’t funny. Now angry, Gloria used an old paring knife to cut the masking tape, then peeled back the bubble wrap inside the box. A heavy, deep purple glass vase was nestled inside.

Sandy began to laugh. She hated purple and had ever since she was a small child. Grandma Gloria often teased her by presenting her with some gift or another that was purple. Once it was a gaudy stuffed unicorn, another time a purple party dress with a plethora of pink ribbons. At first Sandy was upset with the purple presents, but she soon realized that Grandma was just playing tricks on her. The unwelcome gift was always followed by something wonderful. A fluffy white bear instead of the unicorn. A lovely pale-yellow party dress replaced the horrible purple one.

She sobered when she realized that no one except herself and Grandma Gloria knew the meaning behind the purple presents. Sandy’s parents were missionaries and she had lived with Grandma Gloria most of her childhood. The arrangement pleased everyone.

Suddenly Gloricat jumped onto the counter and knocked the ugly purple vase onto the floor. It shattered into several large pieces, one of them scratching Sandy’s right leg, causing it to bleed.

“Bad cat! Now look what you did.” Sandy scooped Gloricat into her arms and unceremoniously dumped her outside into the back yard. “Go find a mouse to play with and don’t come back until I get that glass cleaned up.” Sandy reached behind the door for the kitchen broom to clean up the mess.

But there were no pieces of broken glass on the floor. While Sandy’s back was turned, the shards of purple glass disappeared and a different vase appeared on the counter, a lovely, clear crystal vase. Sandy instantly loved it. She carried it carefully into the dining room and placed it behind the glass doors of the buffet, along with her most treasured pieces of glassware.

Sandy sat down on Grandma Gloria’s antique rocking chair. Two years ago today, she mused, her memory taking her back to the shock she had felt when she answered the phone and a police officer told her that her grandmother had been injured in a hit and run accident on her way home from church. She died the following day, before Sandy could get back to California. Sandy and a few of Grandma Gloria’s neighbors and friends from church were the only mourners at her funeral. Sandy stayed just long enough to contact an attorney to settle Gloria’s estate and a realtor to sell the old house. It was purchased quickly but six months later the house burned to the ground. Now there was a neighborhood playground on the lot.

Insistent meowing brought her thoughts back to the cat. Sandy opened the back door and let her in. They settled into the rocking chair, Gloricat purring loudly as Sandy stroked her soft fur.

Gloricat had been just a tiny ball of gray smoke when she moved in. Sandy paid off the airport taxi when she returned home from her trip to California and walked up to the front porch. The waiting kitten stood on the welcome mat and loudly demanded to be allowed inside. It was as if she had been waiting a long time and was impatient to be fed and petted, as was her due. Where have you been? the cat demanded. I’ve been waiting here forever! Her attitude was so much like Grandma Gloria’s that Sandy named her Gloricat.

What’s the deal with the vase? Sandy thought. Was it really purple? Did it really break? She looked down at her right leg, where the glass had scratched her earlier. Yes, it was still bleeding. The heavy, purple vase definitely had broken. Now it was gone and a delicate crystal vase had replaced it.

“Thanks for the gift, Grandma,” Sandy said out loud. Gloricat reached up and patted Sandy’s cheek and purred.