She stood by the silent bidding table

[dick benbow]

with conviction.Standing as if on guard before the object of her desires. I'd quessed her age at about twelve. Pink "T"-shirt and blue baseball hat that covered up her long brown hair carefully tucked up underneath, and freckled chubby cheeks. She was to this grandfather wannabee the poster child for the perfect grand daughter. But all was not well as Anxiety was etched on her young face. She had found a varigated boxwood she wanted desparately so for three hours while the silent bids played out she stood in front of the Bonsai as if to ward off others who may care to bid. As I wandered thru the crowd of club members, chatting with old friends, I couldn't take my eyes off her situation. She wanted that bonsai so badly, it was plain to see. And everytime someone bid on "her plant", it made me wince to see the hurt in her eyes. Didn't anyone else see it or were they all so blind to their own interest? Trying to be encouraging toward the end, I wandered over to say there was only 7 minutes left before the bidding ended. her bonsai was already up to $35.00 and I found out her name was Corrine. I tried to sound hopeful, but you could tell in the shortness of her sentences and the way her eyes searched the crowd that she needed her Dad's permission to meet the latest bid.Where was he anyway? I too, got distracted in conversation and didn't realize the time for bidding had ended. Frantically, I searched the payment line to see her there, treasure in hand and Dad standing by her side beaming. But she wasn't there. Instead the last women who placed the final bid stood claiming the prize. I wish I could have bid for her in the absense of her dad but I had "invested" earlier in the day all my available funds on the supplies I would need to teach my bonsai class next saturday. So now as I try and unwind at the end of the day, I can't get her out of my mind, wondering how she is feeling. I find myself
humming the song "somewhere over the rainbow" as if to draw peace
for myself that all her "troubles melt like lemon drops " and in the morn she awakens with the song of bluebirds and a beautiful rainbow to mend a broken heart.
__________________

[Sangreaal]

It's always sad when you know how to help out but can't. Rest assured, the little girl will never forget that bonsai that slipped through her fingies--and that very occurance may well propel her into the hobby in search of "the one that got away."

Da lord works in da mysterious ways, his blunders to perform....

[dick benbow]

let's hope your right!