You Can't Put A Price On Memories

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This old gal…

Is always drawn…to the black panther ceramic statues found in antique stores…stately…fierce…beautiful…little girl me…eating chicken rice soup…at the white Formica table…the keen eyes of the panther planter…watching every slurp…from his perch on that fridge…of that grandmother of mine…

Those antique store panthers…a portal…to happy days…loving days…comfortable family days…and so it was…took a walk in the neighborhood…came across a garage sale…and what would you know…there it was…the teeniest tiniest…vintage panther figurine…

Bulgy yellow eyes…blobby mouth…could be mistaken for a quirky salamander…almost ugly really…but yet…so beautiful…so perfect…asked the seller about it…wanted to know its story…its history…she had no idea…didn’t care…found it in a box somewhere…

We bartered for it…she asked for a dime…this old gal…gave her a dollar…because you can’t put a price…on memories…memories…that only those very few left…can understand…memories…that only those very few left…can share…

Memories…that no words…however eloquently spoken…or beautifully written…could ever…do justice…
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And that black panther planter…would agree…