Connection

It was a Friday morning, around 10 o'clock. The weather showed its usual early December face: a dry, slightly pungent cold reminded everyone that winter’s already here. The christmas fair in Vörösmarty Square was just waking up, the vendors were organizing their stores and, in general, they were trying to pick up the rhythm of the day. There were only a few shoppers here and there, the space was mostly full of passers-by. The real attack only started sometime after lunch. Then, as we approach Christmas, it will start earlier and earlier. But we weren't there yet.

The lady may have been somewhere in her early fifties. She had short, slightly wavy brown hair and wore a gray coat. At first glance, I guessed she was an office administrator. It looked like she didn’t belong in the top ten thousand, but also not a factory worker. We used to say he was an intellectual. He was not fast, but he was moving firmly. It was clear that only her way would lead her to do so, she did not come to buy. As I looked at her face, I wasn’t even sure if she knew at all that there was a fair going on around her. Shee was there in body, but she was completely different in spirit.

Something was still on her face. Unhappiness. It’s not a dramatic unhappiness like when someone was just abandoned. She wore a kind of face like “I’m trying to hide that life hasn’t been a pleasure for me in a long time”. Too many people wear such a face. And when Christmas’s coing, it feels especially bad to see faces like this. Like the child she had once been and who was so eager for Christmas and happy for life was already dead. Yet she is still the same person. A little bigger, a little more worn body. But the same spirit.

I watched in silence as the lady passed in front of our booth. Apparently she noticed neither me nor the necklaces swinging lazily in the mild December wind. Maybe she was trying to get where her thoughts were. Anyway, it seemed certain that she would disappear from my field of view in a few seconds, and I would soon forget about her. The paths of two people cross each other at some point in their lives, but no trace of it remains. Then she stopped unexpectedly.

She was looking at one of my necklaces. She seemed to have just woken up from her sleep. Like she was only now realizing where she really was. I didn't say a word. I've seen it several times before, calling it a connection. It seemed like the necklace had been addressed her in some inexplicable way. And the lady just stood there and watched. Her eyes slowly filled with tears. And then the tears gave way to the call of gravity and rolled slowly, comatically across her face.

I still didn’t say anything, I just unhooked the necklace and put it in her hands. A typical customer would have tried the jewelry at this point to see if it was right for her. But I knew that wasn't going to happen. Something much deeper was going on before my eyes. Like when someone finds a friend or relative who was long thought to be lost. We stood there facing each other. She stared at the necklace in her hand and cried silently, without a voice.

Then the words broke out of her. She started to apologize so I wouldn't be mad at her, she was very ashamed of herself and didn't even understand what had happened to her. Anyway, she had to go to work, she didn’t even think about buying anything. But he saw this necklace and… Nothing like this has happened to her before, but now she feels like… this necklace is here for her to find it. Like they have something in common. Like that necklace showed something that was also be there in her soul as well. But she hasn't been able to show it for a long time.

I reassured her that she was not the first person to experience this. And there is no reason to be ashamed of herself. Because as a creative person, I couldn't get a better gift from life. When I make my jewelry, I believe that each piece has a mission. I believe that there is someone, somewhere in the world, who is waiting for just them. Who needs the help of the jewelry to show themselves better. That inner self that we don’t see just feel it.

We talked for a bit more, but it didn’t occur to me if she wanted to buy the necklace. It was already decided the moment she stopped in front of our booth. Then she said goodbye to me and went on. But her gait and posture had changed. At least it seemed to me. Like her thoughts had found a better place for themselves. I looked at his slowly moving figure for a while and thought: maybe that little kid who used to be so happy for life may not have died after all. Merry Christmas You All!