Special

Once upon a time,

there was this old man.

And this old man,

has a vase.

The vase looks ordinary, but the old man insist it's special.

And every day, the old man will take the vase out and wipe it clean with care,

Caressing the contours and staring at it,

like it was the most expensive thing on earth.

When the old man died,

the sons and daughters gathered,

and sold the vase they did,

only to find out it's worth no more than a single penny.

 

It turns out that it's special,

only to the old man perhaps,

something that grew more and more as he wipes and clean it every day.

 

Something is special not because it is,

but because, to the person who think it is,

that person had spent effort polishing it.

 

Do you understand? Effort of maintenance. Not magic.