Round and round. Round and round. Spinning continuously until, at last, the life giving breath was given and it was born. Shaped narrowly near the top in order to help keep the bubbles from escaping, getting gradually wider towards the middle, continuing straight
down to the bottom to hold the required pint of golden liquid. The bottle was formed and shipped to the brewery where it was filled with the finest of brews. Along with its many brown brothers, the bottle of ale traveled by truck to one of many pubs along the route and was eventually dropped off. Stored in a cool cellar, the bottle did not have to wait long to fulfill its purpose. Brought up by the bar maid, and perched in front of a burly man who had worked tirelessly at the docks for the previous twelve hours carting trunks from the train to the many different ships that were in port. The porter was tired and glad to sit down to have his customary drink before heading home to the hot meal his wife would have waiting for him.
After the man left, the bottle was collected and washed, to be refilled from the tap that endlessly poured golden life from it, for, it seemed to the brown bottle, that every time someone would drink the ale, they would seem revived from the long day. People grew animated and talkative. The bottle marveled at the transformation and was so proud of his part in it all. He was a vessel of rejuvenation it seemed.
Days and nights passed with the usual routine of filling, drinking, washing, and refilling. Of countless stories from people and objects of far off lands. Of different languages and strange clothing. Everything from the most casual of handling to pour the liquid into a glass to the firm grip of a sailors rough calloused hands worn thick by shipboard work.
On his final day, the talk grew loud. Louder it got and he was picked up and slammed down by the angry man with such force that he shattered into many broken pieces.
That night the bar maid, who was the first in the pub to introduce him to his first patron, swept him up and into a pail with so much other refuse, hauled him outside and pitched him over the bulkhead and into the cold water of the harbor.
For years the glass swept in and out with the tide. Over time being buried in the silt until it could no longer see the distant glint of the sun during the day.
Much time passed. New, and bigger ships were built and the harbor needed to be dredged to make it deeper for these new ocean going vessels. The dredging machine sucked the last remaining shard up and out into the churning water. It finally came to rest on the harbor floor near the moored boats. After a time a diver, who was hired to scrape the barnacles off of the keel of one of the boats, noticed something shiny glint on the dark sea bottom. He dove straight down and quickly collected it and shoved it in his rubber suit for later examination, as he wasn't paid to scavenge off the ocean floor.
After his work day was at an end, he quickly rinsed and dried off and dressed into clean cloths and went to the tavern to have a drink or two with his buddies. Tonight there was a new waitress and she was the prettiest thing he had ever seen. He remembered his shiny treasure from the sea bottom and pulled it out of his pocket along with some spare wire that he had left over from rewiring a switch earlier in the day. As he sat at the bar he thoughtfully wrapped the shard of glass in the wire, carefully allowing enough to make a bale at the top so that it could dangle freely from a chain. He waited until the bar closed and offered to walk the pretty waitress home and just before he left her, he presented her with his creation.
She was just as smitten as he.
Come and see a seaglass creation on Handmade Jewelry Haven's Etsy site here.
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