Sabina and the Full Moon


San Diego, United States

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Artist's Description

I had this box at a show some time ago. The show was so dead I wouldn’t have been surprised to see a tumbleweed amble by and I was getting ready to pack up and call it a day. As I was trying to figure out which tchotchkes to wrap up first, an elderly lady came over to my table and picked this very box up, ever so gently. She ran her trembling fingers over the smooth finish and chuckled softly to herself. “Ah, this reminds me…” she said and then her voice drifted off. I reached out and took one of her hands – it was soft and very dry and I could feel every bone. “Tell me”, I said. I led her around the table to an empty chair and poured her a bit of tea from a Thermos.
“Oh, it’s a silly story” she said with a wave of her hand, “but if you insist. I used to take a walk every day, but I’d never walk in my neighborhood, no! I’d always take a streetcar to the nicest neighborhood in the city and I’d walk around those beautiful tree-lined streets and smell all those beautiful rich-people flowers and I would imagine that each and every one of those enormous stunning mansions belonged to me. Do you know what you hear in neighborhoods like that, besides birds? Pianos being played. Every other house, it seemed. It was lovely. I believed it was only fair that I should have one some day, so I spent some time considering which one I wanted. I was a very silly young woman, you see. Well, there was this one. It was the house of my dreams, a gingerbread Victorian with spires and turrets and balconies and beautiful stained glass windows like sparkling jewels. It took my breath away every time I saw it. I was sure that there was no possible way that the family who lived there deserved a house that lovely. It was out of the way, but I’d walk to it every time and it was on a cul de sac, so I’d stand smack in the road and stare at it with my mouth open just like a frog! One day I had gotten a late start walking so that it was almost dusk and the moon was rising by the time I got to “my” house. There was an “Open House” sign in the yard! It was being sold, I couldn’t believe it! I knew perfectly well there was no realtor there – it was much too late in the evening, but I went and tried the front door just the same. It opened! I crept in, hoping against hope that it was terrible inside so I could fall out of love with it and be tormented no more, but of course it was absolutely perfect in every respect. I would not have changed one thing about it if it were mine. I wanted to see everything because I knew I’d never get to see the inside of it again, it was like memorizing the face of someone you love. So having poked thoroughly around the entire house, I made my way up the staircase to the uppermost turret and opened the door. And imagine my shock when I found a woman and her cat staring back at me, just like on this box! Well of course, I screamed. And she looked just like this, Sabina, gazing right into my eyes with the most casual expression as if she’d been expecting me all the time and her skirt hiked up over her hips, giving that full moon coming through the window something to look at. She had the most beautiful backside I’d ever seen before or since.” Here, the lady looked up at me with a distinctly mischievous sparkle in her eye. I suppressed the urge to burst out laughing in delight. “So she poured me a glass of cordial and we became fast friends. Her cat’s name was Marzipan. How I loved them both!” The lady got a faraway look and was quiet for awhile. Of course, I tried to give her the box but she said that no, it would make her too sad, but that she was happy to have seen it and to have remembered her sweetheart for a little while. She thanked me for the tea and was on her way. And that’s the reason why the show at which I sold nothing was the best one I’ve ever been at.

This original artwork and story are copyright Ramona Szczerba 2008. Copyright to this material is in no way transferrable with the sale of this item. The buyer is not entitled to any reproduction rights – neither image nor story can be reproduced without my express written permission. Thanks!

Artwork Comments

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