I am a little late to the WordPress Weekly Writing Challenge Being Saturday and all. The subject matter is ‘ tell us about your most meaningful possession and since I have spent most of my life making sure that possessions were not meaningful, I honestly thought I had nothing to contribute.
Then last night outside under the stars I asked myself that same question and the answer came crystal clear. I do have one possession that matters. Would I fight to the death over it? No, but while I have it with me I will savor the meaning and remember.
My Dad is not someone I write an awful lot about which always puzzles me because he was the center of my existence. While my mother tried to teach me how to darn socks (darned if I could understand why – being the diva I was I could not see myself ever darning anything), and knit and keep the house cool in the summer by pulling down the blinds on the east side in the morning and on the west side in the afternoon, my Dad taught me other things.
Have you found it surprising, if you have ever had to clean out a home after someone dies, what seemed important to that person? Have you ever held an object and wondered why it was stored in a tin box with other seemingly meaningless objects?
When it was time to do this for my father there were a number of treasure found. His gold ring with his initials had been left to me but I decided it should go to the oldest son of the oldest son and gave it to my brother for his son.
There was one treasure I was not even aware of until about ten years ago (and Dad died in 1981). The gift came from my sister. I wondered at it at first as it was a small suede leather bag measuring three and half inches at its base, two inches at its neck and five inches in length. And leather tie to tighten it. Engraved into the leather appears to be a Mayan calander or something zodiac like. I truly do not know exactly what it is. This bag and other ‘treasures’ were kept in an old tin box in his top drawer. It was a pretty beat up tin box and I remember seeing it as a young child and wishing I could see inside.
Anyway I thought this was a strange gift but I was touched deeply and then my sister said, “open it”.
Inside were five pennies, each with the birth year of my brothers and sisters and me, and one nickle with my birth year.
The feeling of holding something my dad felt was important enough to be a tin box treasure and understanding the depth and the heart of my sister was overwhelming.
There has never been another gift that has meant as much and each time I pull that leather string to close the bag I feel like I am ensuring my family is tucked in safely.
Die for it if I had to? You know what? Just maybe!