Growth

I stop when I spot trays of Italian glass finger rings. This one. No, wait, this one right here. To pick one color and shape frustrates me. My back bends to examine them closer. Then I sit, cross-legged on the floor to rest my legs, feet, and mostly to see these objects more clearly. They come in some of my favorite shades of blue and brown. I could be here for hours. A man notices this and joins me on the mall floor. He owns this kiosk of decorative objects. "My name is Deva," he says. "Do you know the meaning of the ring you're wearing?" he asks. Actually, I do. The symbol on it represents all of existence from beginning to end. He wants to know where I learned this and suggests Nepal, one of his homelands. Then he says, "Do you know Shangri-La?" Ding-ding, yes I do! I win again! A book tells the fictional story of this place of paradise and peace. I like the movie. No, he tells me, it's the name of second shop he owns in another corner of the mall. Now I register surprise. My eyes open wider and the colors of the glass rings brighten. Together, we choose one that's white and goes with everything.