Little Things

I used to pick up little things, unzip the Easter purse on my hip, and rapidly stuff them inside, so as to protect and keep them from getting lost after I just found them. The purse was a long shoulder strapped baby blue vinyl thing, that someone gave me as part of an Easter outfit one year. I must have been only three at the time, but able to walk, bend and grasp interesting treasures I'd find at Grandma's house, in our kitchen or in the aisle at the grocery store, and hide them away until a later time. I'm told stories of how I would empty the robin egg satchel every so often to display my 'pretties,' as my Grandma Jean called them. A dime I got from Dad, a not-sticky-anymore shiny star from Sunday school class, a unique button from Grandma's sewing room. The treasures would tumble out and I would promptly categorize and explain each one with great care and great detail, admiring the small object as if it were my most prized jewel. And as I was just looking at a friend's blog and scrolled through the conglomeration of photos, quotes, videos and suggested readings, I recognized a part of myself. I don't think that whoever gave me the purse realized they gave place in my life for me to collect 'little things.' Though I have traded marbles, buttons and shiny paper for more 'grown-up' things like photos, quotes and transcontinental earrings, I still find myself drawn to any small memorabilia which can invoke a story or memory in an instant, or just may look appealing to my eye.

Amazed at how some things never change...