We all have them.
Memories tied up in wood, or glass. Physical artifacts containing invisible family stories of the people whose blood pulses through our veins. Stories that tie us to the past, but also give us vision and courage for the here and now.
Such an item is my mother’s blue glass bowl.
A row of American Girl dolls across the top of the computer desk in the guest room. A lone girl’s sandal on the floor of my closet. And the question that nags me. “Should I take it to Goodwill (where its mate undoubtedly is)? Or throw it away? Have they already thrown away its mate, at Goodwill? Or is it lounging at the bottom of some sale bin, waiting for me to do the right thing and complete the pair again so some impoverished girl can have a nice pair of sandals for the summer?”
