'Curio'sities

I have a few items that carry a lot of weight.  Vestiges of my past, of my carefree, meandering youth, they comfort me.  If I had a shrine or sacred room, these would be in it.  There are three of them, forever united, so that together they are one item.

I used to give my mother gold charms for birthdays, Christmas, Mother's Day.  When she was 50, she started a hair wrap.  Just one.  It was nearly a foot long by the time she cut it off.  It was adorned with the charms I gave her, and it was all her.  She was so ladylike and professional, gorgeous, sophisticated, with one long, pink, hippy wrap.  She cut it off before receiving chemotherapy when she was diagnosed with cancer, a year before she died.  I inherited her wrap, among other things.  I used to carry with me in my pocket as a talisman when I needed her strength.  I lost it once.  For a month.  I was lost without it, devastated really, until I convinced myself that a student at the high school I worked at stole it.  It wasn't stolen; it was in the pocket of my winter coat.  I haven't carried it since, so scared am I of losing it again.

My mother had a brass bell that she used in the last months of her life.  She had a three-story condo, and would ring the bell for me or my aunt when she needed something.  It's been in my classroom since I started teaching.  This always made me uncomfortable, as a student would inevitably ring it, which would jar my senses.  I would then give the history of the bell, and said student would return it to its resting place, embarrassed.  I brought so many things I loved into my classroom when I was married.  My classroom was home, not the place I paid the mortgage for.  I am proud to say that this bell is in my home.  It rests between my incense burner and a small rose quartz etched with the word 'beauty'.

The third item is actually a few items in one vessel. This dates back to my teen years.  After graduation, I went through a period of self-exploration.  This meant many hours alone in nature, particularly the beach.  I had read about "holed" stones, which, according to folklore, gave the bearer power to see spirits.  According to legend, to look through a holey stone from shore, one could see a phantom ship on the horizon.  I looked.  No ships, but I think the wonder drew me.  It's hard to explain.  Anyway, the stones live in salt water in a small glass bottle, where they've resided together for over 20 years.

These objects are mine.  No matter where I live, or how much I downsize, they will be with me.  Even if I move to another country, or onto a sailboat, or in a shipping container, these curios will travel with me.