Animosity Shop Conclusion

With a smile on his face, Victor asked, “Are you ready?”

“Well, I have a bit of a problem”, replied Garrison. “I’m having a hard time sorting through this stuff. I seem to be personally involved in every bit of it. I feel strangely attached for some reason”

“Well, let’s just take everything off the shelves and stack it outside. It will help us to work in here better,” explained Victor in a most kind and helpful tone. “Then you can sort it outside and decide what to keep.”

The two began to move the stacks of books, boxes, and crates. Out the door they went, back and forth, back and forth.

Garrison began to notice some unusual things. For every box or barrel that he dragged out the door, Victor seemed to be able to carry 10 times as much. The weight of the boxes seemed to change dramatically when Victor offered to help Garrison carry them out. They became almost weightless. And even though they had moved what seemed to be tons of stuff, when Garrison took inventory of all his goods on the front porch, the amount was miniscule. What seemed almost an unlimited stack inside was just a bit outside.

Garrison began to suspect something was going on towards the late afternoon when he turned to look inside his shop and saw shafts of light coming in through the windows. He’d forgotten all about the windows, and it had been too long since he had seen the afternoon sun filtering in through the panes. He had forgotten how warm the light felt on his face.

While Garrison was noticing the sun dancing through the dust, Victor quietly handed him a small set of gold lined, hand bound books. Garrison looked down and read the very dim and faded letters that read, ‘Happy Memories’.

Garrison wondered if it was the sunlight that made his eyes tear all of a sudden. He thanked Victor rather clumsily and went into his office to examine what he knew were some of his greatest treasures. Victor slipped out the door silently so Garrison missed the huge truck that he drove off in. It was piled to overflowing with boxes and crates.

The clean up was more than just boxes. The shelves were old and splintery. There were wires and nails sticking out of the wood and Garrison recalled that there was blood on Victor’s hands from lifting all those heavy boxes. Yet Victor had seemed so happy to be helping. It was amazing how much compassion he had exhibited. “And all from a man that I hardly knew!” thought Garrison.

In the next few days the Animosity Shop began to take on some amazing new dimensions. Once the room was all cleared away and the shelves taken down, it was easier to see the condition of the beams. No wonder everything sagged around them. Once the new beams were in place the old beams just shattered to the floor. It was no wonder, for they showed tremendous rot. Something had been eating away at them from the inside for a long time.

After the new beams were replaced, the clean up began. There was sweeping and more sweeping. The more the room was swept, the sweeter it smelled. An amazing transformation began to take place. The windows were washed clean. The walls were painted with wonderful bright colors, removing all signs of gray. The place was really attractive and had a wonderful feeling.

Garrison became so absorbed in his new and wonderful space he didn’t even notice the occasional old customer who stopped by. But they found nothing of any interest to them at his shop any more. Gone was the reference section for Justice-seeking stories; Lawsuits for revenge and Irritation were not to be found either. There were no more Nasty Rumor volumes. So the people who came looking for their old stomping grounds were dismally met with brightness and kindness. Not knowing what to make of this change, the people would huff and puff and march indignantly away.

However, there were others who stopped by that were new to Garrison. They liked his place. It was nice and light and had a wonderful feeling. Even before Garrison could measure time, the old sign had come down and the brilliant new one had been hung in its place.

At first Garrison had made plans to build new shelves and put back some of his greater valuables. But Victor had suggested that perhaps he could open a little place that was comfortable, with sofas and music; a refuge from the day’s storms. Maybe he could name it the Celestial Cafe, if he liked, suggested Victor.

It seemed that from out of nowhere came small tables and overstuffed chairs that filled the open spaces. Dazzling murals were painted on the walls that resembled beautiful nature in its most pristine condition with billowing clouds, fountains and streams of permanent sunlight painted into place. If he didn’t know better, he would almost think it was real. Garrison had never enjoyed himself so much in helping Victor decorate. He was sensitive in ways he could never remember in his past.

People would pass by while the construction was going on and they would comment on his place. It was warm and inviting, it had a wonderful homey feeling. They liked it. They smiled a lot.

Garrison remembered that the people who had been in his old shop hadn’t acted the same way as the new folks coming in these days. He remembered that most of his old customers were grumpy, brusk, in a hurry, or totally unfriendly. Garrison was beginning to realize how much he enjoyed the new crowd over the old one.

Garrison was so busy with his new business that it was some time before he realized that he hadn’t seen Victor around. He sat down at one of his tables and began to reflect over the last few months. It all seemed so strange to him, yet it felt so right. He felt something akin to the presence of his new found friend, but he hadn’t seen him for a while and he missed him. Victor had been a great deal of help. He always made Garrison feel secure and confident. There wasn’t anything that had happened that Victor didn’t understand and he always knew how to make it work more smoothly. Everything he touched worked much, much better. In fact, Garrison realized that Victor had come in and literally changed his life for the better.

He could not remember anyone that that had been so kind and helpful to him. He tried to recall anything that was similar to this experience. Dim pictures of his childhood slowly crystallized in his mind. The only thing that he could associate it with was genuine love that he felt from his family as a child. He dimly remembered his mother at that moment, who was a small quiet woman, but tender; and his father who worked so hard to feed the family, always cheerful despite the lean times they lived through.

This reminiscence was a strange thought for Garrison. He couldn’t remember the last time anything that positive had been a part of his conscious thinking.

He took a pen and paper and wrote Victor a short letter of thanks.

Dear Victor,

Thank you for your help. My new business is wonderful. Everyone loves it here and I am happier than I can ever remember. You really are a great fix-it guy.

By the way, you never sent me the bill for the door.

Yours most gratefully,

Garrison

In the next day’s post was a lovelyl white envelope written in a most beautiful cursive addressed to Mr. G. Glowing. Simple spelling error, thought Garrison, because the address was correct. When he opened the envelope, he found a letter written in beautiful script. It read:

Dear Garrison,

I hope you don’t mind if I call you that, but you are so far from being garish, that I just had to let you know how I feel. You are a real force for good, and a strength to your community. You have brought a mighty change to your home and little community. You have made others feel happy. I thought the name fit you better

I’m thrilled for your new business venture. You always did have the makings of a great success. I know you will be a most welcome and necessary asset to all around you.

Please let me know if there is anything I can do for you. I’m just around the corner.

Yours truly,

Victor

P.S. There’s no charge for the door. I never touched it once.

And that is the way that the Celestial Café got its start. The books Garrison carried were enlightening and informative, yet it wasn’t just knowledge they were being fed on; they felt their souls coming to life in this little place. People seemed to be attracted to it from all over the city. Though the menu was limited, offering only a few things that warmed the soul, there was always live harp music and there never seemed to be an end to those who thirsted for a great recipe for comfort. Garret found all sorts of combinations of wonderful teas from all over the world and stocked his shelves with their wonderful potions, but it seemed that everyone’s favorite was the Victor special, and it was a simple local blend. For some reason, it made them feel the best. They said the feeling lasted all day long.