Why do we keep the objects we keep?
We form emotional attachments to seemingly ordinary objects for various reasons. Maybe an object bore witness to a significant moment or event, or was a gift from a loved one. Maybe it represents an important influence that shaped your life.
The treasures and trinkets on our walls and shelves, stashed in drawers, scrapbooks, and jewelry boxes, hold the stories that define who we are.
It is only in the world of objects that we have time and space and selves.”
—T.S. Eliot
Working with this premise, I have crafted short stories about personal curated objects that reveal connections to the people I have loved, the places I’ve been, what’s been lost, and what remains.
Here you will find those stories. XOXO
- Gifts from strangers on Valentine’s Day
Out of the three, only the scarf remains Cleveland Clinic My husband left me on Valentine’s Day in 2014. It’s not what you think. Yes, he left me, but it was because he had to drive five hours home to tend to an emergency. Which left me at the Cleveland Clinic, alone, for a third […] - The Marine Corps ring
Camp Lejeune Mom joined the marines on her 18th birthday, finished boot camp at Parris Island, and stationed at Camp Lejeune, where she met Dad. It was around this time, 59 years ago, a Saturday night in mid-February when Dad told Mom he was Catholic and he knew a certain method. She, being in love […] - The plastic daisy keychain
Coal River Road, St. Albans, WV When the box arrived on our doorstep, Grandmother called her best friend, Ora, who showed up soon after. In the kitchen, they opened it to see what they had painstakingly chosen and ordered from a novelty catalog weeks earlier. One thousand daisy-shaped plastic key chains in a variety of […] - Merry Christmas, and oh, by the way…
…you have a brother. The cottage overlooking Strawberry Road Dad left home in 1966 when I was three. In 1969, he had made a new family. And sent us a card to let us know. It was just weird. I didn’t know this man, my father. Not really. All I knew and wanted more than […] - She’s not up a tree, she’s in my heart
Coal River Road, St. Albans, WV It was early 1969 and even though I was only five years old; I remember with clarity how I created this piece of art. Grandmother had exclaimed through gritted teeth, “He’s driving me up the tree,” a few times the day I sat down with pen and a strip […] - The fern fossil I found
In the woods on the ridgeline St. Albans, WV There were about four acres of woods that separated the back of our house from a neighboring subdivision. In the center of these woods is a ridgeline, a high point where you can see for miles. The rocks and fallen trees made an excellent playground for […] - The red Bible and the red pen
Coal River Road Today I call myself a BaptiPresbyMethoEpiscoChristipalian because I tried every one of these denominations on for size in my nearly 60 years. However, I can trace the roots of my religious influence. They sprouted with help from my great grandmother, G.G. for short. She, King James with his Bible, and the Lower […] - It reminds me I survived
June 2014, Ashland, KY Behind the wheel, at a red light, I can see the intersections ahead and know I need to turn left at one of them. The names swirl in the fog inside my head. Which street, or is it an avenue? Who am I going to see today? I turn and all […] - The red glass cardinals.
Who will keep these objects? Franklin Furnace, OH January 15, 2022 Thwack! Something hits the storm door glass. Ellie, my 8-year-old granddaughter, opens the door and we see a male cardinal lying on the porch. In case he’s only stunned, he needs moved somewhere to recover. We get a small towel and wrap it around […] - The Fancy sign
Our barn Santa brought me a horse a few months after I turned 9 years old, in 1972. Up to then, I had Dolly, a Shetland pony and my best friend of five years. But I had physically outgrown her compact frame. Dolly had saved me from being trampled once. I had fallen in the […] - The class ring
One of my favorite friends in high school wrapped yarn on the underside of her boyfriend’s class ring so it would fit her finger. Another threaded a chain through and wore it around her neck. In 1980, wearing class rings was still popular in high school, whether it was your own, or someone else’s, in […] - The pin in my leg
Coal River Road “Was it a blue car or a green car? Because if it was a blue car, I’ll know this is a bad dream. If it’s a green car, then this-is-real-you-need-to-tell-me-now-and-tell-me-the-truth-please-was-it-green-or-was-it-blue?” The paramedic wouldn’t speak, but the tears in his eyes confirmed the car was green. I slip into a dream and watch […] - The power of a story
On these pages I found a kinship and felt the power of story. I began writing in earnest because of Judy Blume. - Another letter from Dad
and what I wish I could have said March 28, 1977 He writes almost a year after my car accident and says he wishes he could have been with me, but he couldn’t, “… however I have to live with that, nobody else.” — Am I nobody? I had to live with it too. He writes […] - Her art still speaks to me
Somewhere near Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania, in a residential part of a township I can’t remember, is where I had the good fortune to meet a working artist and tour her studio. Her name was Fern Gittings, an aunt of my first husband. She seemed ancient to me, but at 19, anyone over 30 seemed so. She was […] - Signs come in least expected ways
Summer 2013 38° 34’ 16”N, 82° 47’ 54”W There’s this roadside Catholic shrine in our rural community I’ve driven past for years and never once visited. Today I stop for a closer look. And to ask a favor. I’m not Catholic, but there’s a sign posted, “All are welcome, as Our Lady wills it,” so […] - What is wrong with me?
The question I asked myself for two decades. I had two beautiful daughters and a wonderful husband. What is wrong with me? I had a home-based graphic design business, nice neighbors, good friends. So, what is wrong with me? In my teens and 20s, I believed I would not live to see my 30th birthday. […] - This thorn bush has roses
When I was in my early 20s, I handmade a gift for my mom. A calligraphed quote housed in a 5×7 frame. She said she loved it and kept it on her nightstand. Thirty years later, I clean out her garage and find the gift in a broken cardboard box sandwiched among magazines whose subscriptions […] - Sometimes when you let go…
…you get what you need Grandmother didn’t have a jewelry box. She had a tower, and it bulged with an enchanting assortment of sparkly rings, slinky necklaces, and stretchy bracelets. Part of her collection contained a matching ring and necklace. Amethyst, heart-shaped gemstones set in gold. These were her favorites, and they too became mine. […] - The Underwood typewriter
1985 For years, I’ve had a vintage Underwood portable typewriter on display in my home. It represents a time in my young life when I was going to sink or swim. The teacher dismissed me from typing class in high school because I couldn’t take it seriously. After many rejections in the job market for […] - The mystery I’ll never solve
Mid-80s Dad hands me a brushed silver Zippo lighter, says it was from a friend of his. He no longer wants to keep it in the house. It’s engraved ‘MEANWHILE’ on the lid and TO DICK on the case. Dad’s name is Richard, but some people call him Dick. He doesn’t say who it’s from, […] - Why I keep sunflowers
When I was a child, sunflowers rimmed our vegetable garden and in late summer, I would hide among them. Their ranks were my sentinels. The grackles, my scouts, would raise an alarm with a noisy exit, my cue to crawl and crab walk through the cornfield to the opposite side. Death by a thousand paper […] - A poem found after 82 years
In my excavation for family history a few years ago, I landed on a handmade wooden recipe box. It belonged to my grandmother and the contents appear to be from a high school home economics class project. I riffle through the index cards in search of something personal and find one thing non-recipe related. It’s […] - Second chances and the power of kindness
How one message helped save my life Early October, 2014 I have little time left to live, if you want to call my existence living. Months spent on two waiting lists. Two false alarms. One liver wasn’t viable and I don’t remember the reason for the second rejection. Frequent visits to the clinic are mandatory […] - The book stays the same but I love how the message changes
In 1992, when my daughters were 8 and 2, we camped at Cave Run Lake in Kentucky. At the visitor center I found a book titled “Walk When the Moon is Full,” where the author describes 13 moonlight walks with her children and their nature observations. I fell in love with the idea and started […] - The Outer Banks or the outer limits?
For 20 years, I’ve kept one of those touristy OBX license plates hanging on the wall near my workspace. It’s a reminder of a vacation my husband and I almost didn’t take in 2002. The day before departure, my doctor called and said I may or may not have Hodgkin’s disease and it would be […] - The ring at the rock
There is one spot on this entire earth I hold most dear in my heart. It’s a place that was created when a huge boulder rolled from a mountain eons ago, landed in the Coal River about 20+ feet away from the steep bank, and created a flow around at the Lower Falls in St. […] - The pants
The stretchy stirrup pants are beyond their original navy blue. They have faded and no longer fit. They’re too worn to donate. I keep them tucked in the back of a drawer because they hold in their fabric the autumn of 1985: the house on the lake, my youth, the promise of the life I […] - The recipe I kept misplacing
My father and his father were professional chefs and there was a spirited competition between the two. Grandpa published his own cookbook: “What’s Cookin? in Florida, The private recipe collection of a master chef,” by Richard Nickerson. The competition between father and son showed up with Dad’s frequent grousing about Grandpa’s choice to use only […] - Another thing I kept misplacing
Much like the prime rib recipe I misplaced over the years as an excuse to call my dad, I did the same with the rules for Shanghai Rummy. If a passion for card games is hereditary, then I got the gene from my father in spades. For many years I’ve kept decks of cards and […] - A picture worth a thousand words
Or in this case, 243 On November 9, 2013, I turned 50. It was my first adult birthday without alcohol. A dear friend showed up and gifted me this framed photo her daughter captured one autumn. By then, I had been sick for almost a year, with every month progressively worse. I look at our […] - The lighthouse drawing
There’s a scene in my mind I obsessed about most of my young life: pine trees on a rocky coast, a lighthouse, a keeper’s cottage. I envisioned it from the many stories Dad told me about where he lived as a child into his teens. One night in the autumn of 1987, I put the […] - The old newspaper
In the office, in a file cabinet, bottom drawer, very last folder titled “Writing”, you’ll find the Life section of our local newspaper from 2003. It contains an essay I wrote. It was the first time in my life my writing earned money. My husband woke me on March 16th and gave me the heavy […] - The guardian angel pin
December 1988 On my lunch hour, I bundle up and head to a local gift shop nearby. I wait for the WALK sign to blink and then rush across the slushy street. Inside the shop, attached to a lighted display, a sparkle gets my attention. It’s a tiny gold angel pin with a diamond embedded […] - The object I no longer have
but old photos prove it existed At 17 I was restless. The power struggles between me and my grandparents resulted in frequent screaming matches over what felt like unfair punishments and rules. I spent an inordinate amount of time confined to my room. Fortunately, there was a large framed painting that hung on the wall. […] - The thing that’s not really an object
But I see it every day October 22, 2014 As I was being wheeled into surgery for a liver transplant, the surgeon asked me what kind of scar I wanted. Confused, I asked him to clarify. He said he can make the incision in one of two ways. It was my choice. I could either […] - The letter I wrote to a stranger
The day after my liver transplant, as the fog of anesthesia cleared, a cloud of deep sorrow settled in its place. As days turned to weeks, I regained physical stability, but my emotions remained shaky. I wrestled with guilt and gratitude. Someone, somewhere had lost a loved one and because of this I got to […] - The piece of scrap plywood
From trash to treasure It was an unwanted object, this 3’ x 6’ piece of unfinished plywood, a raw scrap destined to languish in the garage’s corner among the other project leftovers. But I saw a blank canvas. It had been over a year since transplant surgery and improved health fueled newfound enthusiasm for creating. […] - The hourglass
Mom asks me to take a few days and clean out the mountains of boxes and debris packed high in her three-car garage. She offers, “If you do it now, before I die, it’ll be easier—you won’t be sad.” She has a point there, although I suspect she simply wants to get her car in […] - The box contains more than 366 objects
The first few years after my liver transplant, the dormant artist within wakened. Everything was a blank canvas, and I painted in makeshift areas; the garage, kitchen, den. Art supplies and half-finished projects crowded our normal living areas. In May 2016, I learned of an art challenge called ICAD, or Index Card A Day. The […] - The studio as an object
Mine began as a junk room and I gave it a makeover. Over the past six years, it’s changed appearance and usefulness, but remains at its core purpose, a home for creative expression. Having a dedicated spot to honor and practice creative activities has been a life-changing for-the-better experience. If you can carve out a […] - The expired license plate
In the late 90s, I was in transition and untethered. Between relationships. New job. It was a trying time, but I was fortunate to have my friend Eliza as an anchor. We met through work, but our friendship extended beyond that. Marathon phone calls, vacations together, shopping, recipe exchanges. One summer, our favorite radio hosts […] - I brought a knife to a gunfight
But I survived I discovered kayaking in the spring of 2019 and spent the summer paddling flat water most weekends with my husband. We enjoyed the sport recreationally, but when I saw the ad for a fun float and race in October, I signed us up. We showed up at the Big South Fork of […] - The unfinished cross stitch
I don’t know why my family had such an affinity for handmade wooden boxes of various shapes and sizes, but I inherited the love for them and their backstories. One of these boxes, a smallish rectangle with a hinged lid and dovetail joints, made its way through the hands of generations of women on my […] - The covered bridge
I have a signed, limited edition art print of Switzer Bridge surrounded by trees in autumn glory. It’s a covered bridge no longer used by vehicles but open to foot traffic near Stamping Ground, KY. I purchased the piece at a nearby bookshop the same day my then boyfriend, who’s from that tiny town, took […] - From treasure to trash
The object I kept for too long It’s a poignant scene. The pet dog, a collie, interceding on behalf of a little girl standing in the corner. He begs for his mistress to be released from her punishment. The piece of art is called A Special Pleader, and they sold reproductions in the 1980s. Granddad […] - The gratitude jar
In late 2015, a year post-transplant, my physical health had improved, but mentally and emotionally, I still struggled with survivor’s guilt and depression. My counselor suggested I try a 365 grateful project: each night, for a year, write something down about my day I was thankful for. So I did. On January 1st, 2016, I […] - You can’t always get what you want
But sometimes you get what you need Last summer, I fell in love with a nearby property overlooking the Ohio River that was up for auction. A tiny house on a 1/4 acre lot with an oak tree at its side, which probably sprouted the same time they built the house 100 years before. There’s […]