Bet's Bottles

Years ago when my boys were little, there was a craft mall that I liked to visit.

Risky business with three little boys.

It was there that we met a sweet lady named Bet.

She was probably in her seventies at that time.

Bet had a small booth of her pottery goods.

She took great pride in her work and if there was the slightest defect in the glaze,

she would price those items at a dollar or two.
She claimed they weren't worth very much,
but I was amazed at her beautiful work.
I bought every one I found and many of those came from Bet's bargain bin.
It was rare to find that she had priced something as it should have been.

Bet made some of my most treasured keeps.

She was a soul I felt connected to.

I don't have any idea how many pieces I have.
I lost count after awhile.

Some I have shared with family and friends. Some have been broken.

 They are all cherished no matter their current address.
I will admit that there were tears whenever one was broken.
They were all one of a kind, never to be replaced.

Bet began making pieces for me- her green was my favorite.

She asked what colors I collected and I told her green, brown and white.
I have quite a few in the palest of pinks, and a few in pale blue.
There were a couple of dark blue that miraculously survived the boy's game room.

She always seemed so surprised at my delight, but delighted I was.

I am delighted to this day by my little bottles.

I can imagine Bet at her potter's wheel,

hands covered in clay and a determined look in her eyes.
Always striving for perfection in her work, yet never feeling like she found it.

Bet stopped coming one day.

It made me so sad to realize that I'd probably never see her again.

I hoped that I had shown her how much I cared

~that she knew how important those little pottery pieces were to me.
That the perfection she chased was right in front of her...she should have seen it in my eyes.

They are probably in every room of our house.

The boys have taken a few of them as they've left home.

I hope they remember that they bought a few for me with saved quarters,
hidden away in their Oshkosh pockets.
My treasures.

The little craft mall closed down a few years after that.

Once in awhile I come across some similar pottery.

With wistful expectation, I'll turn it over in my hand  hoping to see her name again.

I've never come across another, but the ones I do have are forever in my heart.

And so is she.

I know she has long since passed,

but Bet's pottery takes me back in time every day.

"How 'bout this one, Mama?"

Yes, Casey Bear.

I think it must have been made just for you.

Bet told us she didn't really know what that "lump" was on top of the jar.

But if we said it was a bear, then a bear it was.

The felt stickers have worn away with only yellowed stains remaining,

but she did put her name on the bottom of most of her pieces.

Some are stamped, some are handwritten.

Just Bet.

My name is Bettina.

Coincidence?

I like to think no.

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