“I want that!” Lynda’s eyes popped as the crystal heart brooch twinkled attached with a post card dated 1952.
“I collect antique postcards and antique brooches.” The sales lady nodded.
Lynda read the post card, “How I miss you! When I go to sleep, I never count sheep, I count all the charms about L.nda. …With one luck break I’ll make L…a mine.” The letters between’ L’ and ‘a’ got washed off as did much of the letter. Blurry. Wiping her glasses, Lynda held the letter to her bosom, “Aww!” Indeed it was written to a Lynda she had no doubt. “This brooch is meant for me.” She murmured. ”I’ll treasure it in my box, oh unknown sender!” She kissed the faded post card.
When Lynda was a little girl her teacher used to call on her and point to all the spelling mistakes in front of the whole class warning that she’d never make anything in life. There were five Lindas in her class. No one made such mistakes. ‘Thank God, it’s not me’ they’d cover their mouths, hiding their giggles. How embarrassing - Lynda felt and broke down one day, “Why did you name me Lynda, Mom?”
Mom replied,” Because of the song darling. ‘Linda, Linda
morning noon an’ night, Linda’s always on my mind.” She twirled playing the record. Perry Como’s voice ‘…miracles still happen…’ filled the air.
“But you’re special, sweetie, you are Lynda with a ‘y’.”
Fifty years later, those memories stirred. Lynda flipped the postcard to see the price tag and dropped it immediately. Twenty seven dollars!
Hubby needed bridgework, the car needed new brakes. Lynda realized she was not a little girl anymore. There was no room for ‘wants’.
She went back to her own booth where she was selling handmade holiday ornaments. Her husband, Harry was minding her booth giving her a short break.
“You sold three blind mice, honey.” Harry grinned with missing front teeth. “ I gave a discount of three dollars. Twenty seven for three. Here.” He held her the money.
Lynda gaped. She ran to the brooch lady like a little girl, money in hand. “Oh Lord, you listened to me. Exactly $27!” She murmured, palm on her chest.
But the brooch was gone. SOLD.
Next morning as Lynda opened the door of the Craft Fair the first lady standing in line was wearing that brooch.
“My brooch!” Exclaimed Lynda.
“What?” The lady knitted brows. “I bought it yesterday.”
“Of course. Of course you did, Ma’am. I know. Did you read the letter?” Lynda swallowed, “written to some Linda?”
“No! I didn’t care. Threw it.” She rolled her eyes. Then turned, “ letter to some Linda, you said? That’s interesting, ‘cause my name is Linda too.”
Lynda nodded and moved away.
“Oh Lord, I see you listened to my wish. But you goofed. You made a mistake with the spelling. It was from a Linda with a ‘y’. My Lord, you make mistakes too.“