Yule Ramblings #12: The Loving One

There is a craft shop in Friendsville, MD. It had an alpaca with a broken neck.

Its Napoleon-Dynamite-looking face jetted out at a razor sharp 90-degree angle over its elongated neck, hovering above its right shoulder. Its misaligned jaw boasted a crooked bottom row of teeth that conveniently met you at eye level (but all alpacas seem to be victims of this particular dental affliction.) I'm not sure what happened to this one. I couldn't imagine being so docile if my world was catawampus, maybe this alpaca never knew the difference.

He (or she, I can't be sure) seemed... well... happy.

Goats, llamas and donkeys shared this particular petting zoo pen. You could feed them out of a metal scoop if you felt so inclined. Their swollen bellies smudged the dirt beneath them, contrasting the deep tracks left by their ever-plodding hooves. Their manner and frame served as evidence of visitors' nonstop deluge of offerings. Yet, the cordial creatures craved more - more friendly pats, more kibbly bits. Bleat. Hum. Hee-haw!

I felt a tinge of melancholy for this particular alpaca though. I am sure it received less than its fair share of guest affection. Feeding it took extra effort. When I was brave enough, I held the scoop up to its perpetually-tilted noggin. It'd peck at the pieces, more landing on the ground than in its mouth. The other animals - especially those damned ravenous goats - clamored for that loose feed. More often than not, my alpaca friend lost the Battle-Of-The-Bits. So I'd flick a few pieces directly into his/her mouth, and it'd bat them back at me with a slap of its sandpaper tongue. Finally, I cusped my hand around its mouth, resembling a snack-sized feed bucket. I thought I felt his appreciation... but mainly I just felt slobber collecting between my fingers.

I then offered a silent thank you to the establishment's owners for loving this gentle alpaca enough to continue sharing him with the world. The craft/antique shop itself is downright lovely. Its whimsical decor reminds me of my mom's house. To my knowledge, there is still a little jam and jelly store adjacent to it. My dad would wear his elastic "eating pants" and gorge on delicious samples.

Later that day, on the car ride home, traveling over the mountain on old Route 40, my mom surprised me with this ornament.

I'm not sure if it was in reference to the alpaca incident, but my subconscious has permanently fused the two.

The heart symbolizes compassion and charity. Biologically, it is the first part of the body they believe is created while the fetus is in its mother's womb.

I've always looked at this ornament and thought of my mama as the bright pink heart, and me as the glittery green. Pink stands for unconditional love. Also, femininity... and the vibrant hue of this particular pink, I imagine, is reflective of my mom's spunky, zany nature, endlessly pushing the limits on what it truly means to considered "lady like."

Green is my favorite color: freshness, hope, luck, regeneration, "GO!".

Together, they represent us. This is the only ornament on our tree that is has enjoyed year-round exposure suspended from the bedroom window-blind strings, instead of being tucked away in the attic only to make an annual holiday appearance.

So yeah, back to the second sentence of this post: I elected to use past tense.

But truth be told, this very alpaca may still be alive. Man, I hope so.