I’m thinking of a list of things, items that inspire me and make me smile. Little things, keepsakes, mementos, what most people would label junk, and probably sell in a garage sale, or toss in the trash bin. If I had a treasure box, the kind you find hidden under the bed of a ten-year-old child, here are a few of the things it would contain:
fireflies
skeleton keys
thunderstorms
tiny silver spoons
scraps of red ribbon
a handful of thimbles
coins from other countries
leftover ends of used candles
a set of my father’s cuff links
phrases, quotes, and peculiar words
pocket sized, aged, cloth covered books
faded photos of strangers and strange places
a set of my Mimi’s salt and pepper shakers
jars of buttons in every shape and color
stopped wrist or pocket watches
one of my grandfather’s pipes
notebooks half full of poetry
smooth multi-colored stones
the sounds that frogs make
postmarked stamps
an old library card
a broken teacup
matchbooks
Funny thing is, these treasures make their way into my stories. They appear over and again, and make me smile. These pages are my treasure box, and if you read them, it’s the same as sitting on the floor of my childhood bedroom and exploring the depths of that treasure box.
What’s in your box? What pieces of ephemera find their way into your stories, just because you love them, and want others to hold them in their hands, gaze at them, and remember, too?
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