Hats.

I have always pondered why on earth someone would want to own a hat shop. But that is my great uncle Mike for you. His whole life he grew up hoping one day to open up a hat shop. This shop is the shop that I inherited upon my great uncle’s death. I never wanted this shop. In fact, as a young girl I had always been terrified of it. When you walk in the door the first thing you are greeted with is a musty old smell that over whelms your nostrils to the point of you having to pinch your nose closed. But, this minor detail only adds to the frightening overall appearance. The one room shop is dark and dim, the only light coming from the one small window above the door and the fading light of an old lamp. My great uncle was also a bit spooky himself. His long white beard was matted and tangled and his bald head was always moist with perspiration, there was no air conditioning. My great uncle never married and lived alone in the attic above the shop. I dreaded every encounter I had with him which was basically composed of one annual Christmas visit. I would walk in and he would put an old dirty Santa hat on my head and then pat me on the back. It was his way of showing compassion but all is used to do was frighten me. That is until one day I discovered the mystery. The entire reason my great uncle had ever wanted to own a hat shop. He was a wizard. He had the power to make hats with a twitch of his fingers and these hats amazed me to the point of no return. The old dirty Santa hat had the ability to make you grow a beard and the small sparkly green hat covered in daisies gave the wearer the control over plants, but only small shrubs. The thing was though you had to possess the gift. The gift of the magic. My great uncle was old and his magic had withered and the best he was capable of was creating magic hats. However when I turned twelve and nearly fell into a portal he decided it was time to tell me about the family secret. The Mystery of the Hat Shop. He said it all started when he was a young boy and his older sister found out that she could will animals to do what she wanted. She actually made our dinner come back to life one night and ended up keeping him as a pet, Freddie the Pig. It was then that their dad took them to see their great-great uncle. He was an old man and couldn’t recall al the details but what he was able ton conjure up is what my great-uncle had imprinted in his memory to the point where he could recite his great-great uncle’s exact words just in case he would ever have to explain the secret to any of his nephews or nieces. You see the gift passes awkwardly through aunts and uncles and their nephews and nieces. Not once has it ever been passed from a father or mother or grandmother or grandfather to a son or daughter or grandson or granddaughter. It was on that fateful day, the day I, Melony Brinswick, discovered the portal that I came to acquire all of this knowledge. Knowledge that someday I might pass on to my niece or nephew or great-niece or great-nephew along with a little note in my will to handover my great uncle’s hat shop to them. Until then I keep that old dirty little Santa hat in a glass case on top of the great fire place right next to his will and my great mirror that I look at every morning before I go to work to remind me just how wonderful he was and to remind me of the kind of person I wish to aspire to be.