K is for Keepsakes

Another Alphbytes Entry

I have been searching for the right K word. Playing with each as to what I'd write and finally decided I'd not found one worthy of an essay. So I pulled out my thesaurus. Not just any thesaurus, I pulled out MY thesaurus. It was published in 1938. The year my dad was born. My grandfather had it, and when my dad was in school and doing something that required it, my grandfather gave it to him. My dad was about 12. When I was about 12, my dad handed me two books, of which I still own and have worn out. A leather bound mythology book, because I was totally into Greek Mythology at age 12. And the other book, MY thesaurus. So I flipped through the pages of K, and I found the word KEEPSAKE. And I realized I was holding my K word.

Several years back, I went through my second divorce from someone who literally left me very broken. I moved into a tiny house with two other roommates and we put only what we needed into the house and paid for storage of the rest of our goods. It was a wonderful time. But I stored almost everything I owned. My book went with me, several did. After a time of healing I decided to move on. I moved back in with my parents for two months to help out in a family crisis (health issues) and put everything else into storage. Two months turned to six.

Unbeknownst to me, my storage unit was cased and ripped off entirely. A new lock was placed on the door to not expose the crime. I had no clue. Until one day when a woman called me and said she'd bought a table at an auction that had a locked cabinet on it. In the cabinet were items of a personal nature. Did I want them back? My first thought was that my freaking ex had taken the table and sold it. When I went to my storage unit, my worst fears were confirmed. Everything I owned was gone. I had some really wonderful items and they all were gone. Crystal, Linens, Wedgewood china a set of 12, German antiques, German porcelain, flags from all over the world (from former East Block Countries). My varsity jacket from Berlin, my yearbooks from Berlin. Baby books and pictures.

I was sick for a time, but chose to move on. It was all just stuff. I treated it like a fire. I'd lost it all. However, a month later, I was talking to a friend about it, and he kept saying "All your beautiful things. Keepsakes." I think he wanted me to be miserable, and I couldn't be. But suddenly I remembered the books I'd had. They'd been in my storage too. I'd put them there when I moved in with my parents. And I cried. It hit me hard to think I'd lost my thesaurus. I loved that book. I covet it like a bible. My friend asked me what had been in the bag of things she gave back. And you know, I'd not looked in it in that month. Because I was so busy chasing the bastards who stole it all from me. So I went through the bag of items.

In the paperbag, the items that had come home to me were: The first outfit my son wore home from the hospital. His father's first outfit. My son's christening suit and a T shirt from the Hospital in Berlin that said "I got my first hug at Berlin Germany, US Army Hospital". There was a folder of resumes and sundry letters I'd written but never mailed. A box of special stationery, a handful of pictures, and at the bottom of the bag were my two favorite books. They'd found me.

A friend told me once, her father had given her a ring, and no matter where she went she wore it. She lost it about a hundred times, but it always found it's way back to her. She lost it on the Duty Train one Volleyball trip. I found it 2 months later when I went on a trip on the same train...it just always found it's way back to her. I guess my books are like that. I've given the Mythology book to my son. But the thesaurus is mine, and likely to follow me every where. Some Keepsakes, you never lose...or they never lose you.

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