The cross

In one of her many travels to Moscow, something fascinating happened to grandma.

As she was advertising her apples to potential buyers at one of Moscow’s many markets, a young lady stopped to carefully examine her apples. She wanted to handpick just a few good-looking apples to take back to her country — which could have been Georgia or Uzbekistan or Kazakhstan. As the young lady was admiring her goods, young grandma was admiring the lady. She was well taken care of: beautiful hands, good clothes, good shoes, nice perfume. Grandma’s eyes were however most fascinated by the cross she was wearing around her neck. Made of good quality gold, it was an undecorated and simple cross, which was exactly what made it so unique and beautiful.

Grandma wanted one just like that. She asked the woman where she had bought it, only to find out it was handmade in her country. Grandma did not think twice. She offered to buy it from her. The woman refused, bought the apples and left to catch her train that would take her back home.

A few hours later, when the market was about to close, the same woman with the beautiful cross came back running and begged grandma to buy the cross from her. Apparently her wallet with every single penny in it had been stolen later that day and she had no money left to make her way back home to Georgia, Uzbekistan or Kazakhstan.

Grandma bought the cross for a generous fee. She gave it to her daughter. My mom gave it to me. Every time I wear it I get to think of both of them and the young lady that made this connection possible. I hope she got another cross handmade for herself.

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Originally published at agingwits.tumblr.com.