Once upon a time, there was a girl who lived in a rainy city. She carried an umbrella, as most people did. It was not a beautiful, waxed paper, Japanese umbrella, nor was it a tasselled, silk, Balinese umbrella. It was a perfectly serviceable, small, black, collapsible umbrella with white spots. It had a couple of broken ribs, but it kept the rain off. And you can't ask for much more than that.
Then, one rainy day, she saw the umbrella of her dreams. It was black also, but had a curved wooden handle and a wooden point with a brass tip. It curved in a perfect dome overhead. But that is not why it was the umbrella of her dreams. You see, this umbrella had the sky inside. A beautiful blue sky, dotted with fluffy white clouds.
The girl longed for the umbrella. She yearned to walk beneath grey, heavy clouds, surrounded by pouring rain, sheltering under her own blue sky. She searched the rainy city. She walked into tiny, dusty, dark shops with tiny, dusty, hunched-over owners and asked for an umbrella with the sky inside.
"Never seen one before," they would answer her. "Here's one with the Sistine Chapel ceiling inside. Will that do?"
But no, she wanted one with the sky inside.
She walked into huge, sprawling, brightly-lit department stores with more things than any reasonable person could need and asked for an umbrella with the sky inside.
"Never seen one before," they would answer her. "Here's one with a Monet painting inside. Will that do?"
But no, she wanted one with the sky inside.
She sent messages all around the world to umbrella manufacturers and sellers asking for an umbrella with the sky inside.
"Never seen one before," they would answer her. "Here's one with Holstein spots or silver or little fishies inside. Will any of those do?"
But no, she wanted one with the sky inside.
The girl sighed deeply and resigned herself to having a perfectly serviceable, small, black, collapsible umbrella with white spots and a couple of broken ribs. At least she wasn't getting wet.
Then, years later, the girl was in a far-off city where a golden bridge spanned the bay and where thick fog rolled in over the water. She was terribly lost and had given up hope of finding what she was looking for. Tired and confused, she took shelter and discovered a place of wonders. Forgetting her original purpose, she wandered galleries and halls, stairs and rooms filled with the beautiful, the strange and the thought-provoking.
At the end of her wanderings, she found herself in a store filled with the most wonderful objects. She scoured the store, gathering as many beautiful, strange and thought-provoking gifts as she could carry. And there, in the corner, she saw it.
It was black and had a curved wooden handle and a wooden point with a brass tip. It curved in a perfect dome overhead.
And it had the sky inside.
Trying not to go berserk with glee, she gathered the umbrella into her arms and took it with her. She carried it carefully home over distant seas to the rainy city. When she arrived, she walked outside beneath grey, heavy clouds, surrounded by pouring rain, and sheltered under her own blue sky.
Sometimes, when the rain did not fall, she wondered what was inside her umbrella. Did it fill with menacing rain clouds? Did hurricanes threaten to blow it inside out? Was she looking at the other side of the sky?
The umbrella said nothing, it simply kept the rain off. And you can't ask for much more than that, even if it does have the sky inside.
One awful day, the umbrella with the sky inside was gone. It disappeared, the way umbrellas are wont to do. Much like odd socks and ballpoint pens, just when you need them, they are gone.
The girl was terribly sad. She loved the umbrella with the sky inside. She loved walking beneath grey, heavy clouds, surrounded by pouring rain, sheltering under her own blue sky. She searched and searched and searched, but alas, she could not find another like it. She would have to return to the place of wonders, a long way away, over distant seas.
She flew through the skies outside her umbrella. She flew through star-lit skies, skies washed with the sunset and skies illumined by the sun. She walked through huge terminals and caught yellow cabs, crossed great bridges and found herself again in the city where the golden bridge spanned the bay and where thick fog rolled in over the water. She went searching for the place of wonders.
She found it.
It was closed. It was Wednesday. Places of wonder are always closed on a Wednesday.
The girl sighed. But there was one hope left. She had heard there was another place of wonders, on the other side of the country. The girl resolved to travel across the country to this new place of wonders and seek an umbrella with the sky inside.
Again, she flew through the skies outside her umbrella. Again, she flew through star-lit skies, skies washed with the sunset and skies illumined by the sun. And again, she walked through huge terminals and caught yellow cabs, crossed great bridges and found herself in a city where tall, mirrored buildings reflected the sky and a beautiful lady guided the hopeful into the harbour. She travelled underground in mysterious tunnels and above ground, along canyon-like streets. And there she found it. A place of wonders. And it was most definitely not a Wednesday.
Taking a deep breath, the girl entered the place of wonders and sought the umbrella with the sky inside.
She found umbrellas covered in thick, green grass and umbrellas covered in silver. She found umbrella stands and umbrellas designed by famous architects. But no umbrellas with the sky inside. She was ready to give up hope when, behind the grassy umbrellas and the silver umbrellas and the umbrellas designed by famous architects she found one. An umbrella with the sky inside.
Sending a quick thank you to the umbrella gods (for there are gods of umbrellas just as surely as there are gods of the skies and thunder), she gathered the umbrella into her arms and took it with her. She carried it carefully home over distant seas to the rainy city.
When she got home, she walked outside beneath grey, heavy clouds, surrounded by pouring rain, and sheltered under her own blue sky. Then she took the umbrella inside, shook the rain from its folds and went to place it carefully where she always placed her umbrella. And there, up the back, pushed out of the way by cardboard boxes and packing material, looking dusty and forlorn, was an umbrella with the sky inside.
So the girl had two blue skies to shelter beneath in the storm. And you can’t ask for much more than that.
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