My treasures wouldn’t catch the eye of a burglar, but they make me smile as they remind me of the important people and times in my life. A few of them are:
Dad’s small, patched German accordion that he played by ear is on a shelf in our curio cabinet. When I was in grade school, he taught me to play “You Are My Sunshine” but I couldn’t add any more tunes to my repertoire. A few years later, I took piano accordion lessons; I needed to read sheet music to play songs.
I have a charm bracelet that a jeweler made using five childhood rings worn by Mom, our daughter, Linda, and myself. That seems like a better idea than leaving them in boxes stored in a drawer.
The hand-carved, wooden, rearing horse atop the China cupboard in the corner of our kitchen was purchased from the artist at a flea market in Mexico. Mom babysat so Ken and I could spend a week with my cousin, Doris, and her husband, Bob, who had time-share lodging there during the winter.
The small, stuffed, black and white puffin perched on top of our refrigerator was purchased during the disastrous, summer holiday in Alaska with my friend, Gloria. The guide who drove the van for our trip made many errors but the six of us women riding along had a lot of laughs. In a tourist shop, I couldn’t resist buying the bird after reading that sometimes it eats so much that it can’t fly. I could empathize because I always expect to gain a few pounds during a vacation.
The two, little, plastic duckies that sit on our coffee table beside my rocking chair are less than an inch tall and were a prize in a candy pack. They remind me of our daughter, Lisa, and the cuddly, yellow Ducky that comforted her during the difficulties of her childhood.
The little stuffed devil that rests above my dresser mirror was a customer premium when my cousin, Doris, was selling cosmetics. The plastic face reminded her of our son, Kurt, so she gave me one.
I wear the Linde star sapphire ring that Ken bought as a Christmas present many years ago. At the time, his patrol partner suggested that he should spend his money on a new, zigzag, electric sewing machine instead. Sometimes, love isn’t practical.
What are your treasures?