That Vase

Strange, the things you remember. Single images and feelings that stay with you down through the years. Like the moment I realized I’d never owned a vase. That I’d never lived any place long enough to justify having such a simple thing. And how at that moment, I wanted nothing so much in all the world as to have a vase of my very own.

Somehow in my mind, V.E. day, the end of the bloodiest and most terrible war in human history, grows fainter with each passing day. But I can still recall every detail of the day when I saw the life I wanted sitting in a window.

Sometimes wonder what would’ve happened if I’d bought that vase and made a home for it. Would that have changed things? Would I have been happy? Who can say?

Even now, after all the pain and death and heartbreak that followed, I still would make the same choice.

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