OriYeyeOloye

Michael loved things that sparkled, and in his imagination, nothing shone more vibrantly than a chest of buried treasure, dug up. For this very reason, his favorite character was Tinker Bell, who, with a wave of her wand, would send a trail of magic dust to dangle in midst.

“Bush, we’re going to have to sling some dust.” Michael would often say, pointing to a new piece that I thought was finished. On other occasions (and there were many of them) Michael would call me up, “Bush, where are you? I need you to bring me some dust.”

Which meant he wanted to see rhinestones.

Sometimes I’d drive 3 hrs to retrieve loose rhinestones straight from the factory, just because looking at them in that raw form pleased Michael to no end. Every time I opened the swatch of white felt that encased the rhinestones, he’s gasp. The presentation literally took him aback. Then he’d take them from me and delicately move them around with his fingertips and whisper, “Bush, look. Look at how shiny. Look!” He was like an awestruck kid, and I couldn’t help realizing that while I had been working with rhinestones all my life, I had never appreciated them the way he did in that moment. Still whispering, he’d continued, “Can you imagine being a pirate opening a treasure chest? And seeing all the glitter inside? What a fascinating life, to be a pirate like that.”

For Michael, slinging dust never got old. This appreciating for detail and for the things in life so often taken for granted was a part of his magic. He had magic, because he truly believed in it – fairy dust and all.

˚⟡˖ ࣪

ᴸᵉᵗ'ˢ ᵂᵃⁱᵗ ᴬ ᵂʰⁱˡᵉ ; ⁸⁶