I'm doing a little reorganizing this week and as I was rediscovering old treasures, I thought to myself, why do we keep certain things? I try to use the things that I own, it somehow feels wrong to just own something for the sake of owning it and never using it or enjoying it or sharing it. But, a few treasures remain carefully wrapped in tissue and stored in my closet, yet I cannot seem to part with them. The favorite old rabbit, its' fur worn off and one ear mended with sloppy stitches... a few remaining pieces of a child's tea set... a tattered book, the pages written on with kindergarten letters... old ballet shoes, so loved the toes broke through... a shabby trinket with a missing rhinestone...
Each of these treasures means something to me, deep in my heart. They give me a sense of the past, when maybe life seemed a bit simpler. They bring back memories that comfort. I think we have all experienced that at one time or another.
Sometimes when I am out shopping for antiques, I see treasures that are similar to the ones I cling to. I wonder about the person that owned them and how their treasure came to be sitting on a shelf in an antique mall.
Recently, our dear, sweet, grandmotherly neighbor, left her beloved home and moved into a nursing home. It all happened very quickly. One day she was there, enjoying a very full life, very capable and independent, and the next day she became ill and within weeks she was tucked away in her new residence. The contents of her house have been sold and her "treasures" - those items that didn't seem worth anything to anyone else - the treasures that held her memories - were piled up with the weeks' trash. And I find myself feeling deeply saddened by it.
I know this is a really long post and I don't usually go on like this, but it's something that's been on my mind and I thought I would just put it out there. For you. For your treasures, whatever they may be.