Wooden Boxes

Are you attracted to wooden boxes like I am?
   
They make perfect treasure chests for our keepsakes.  Should I happen to take the next taxi to Heaven, I can't help but be concerned what will happen to my endless collection of little things. 

Who will take care of my Sweet Pea kitchen fairy?  or the gray plastic mouse that the kids move from brick to brick on our fireplace?  Years back, hubby went to a job-related convention in Chicago, and he brought the mouse home for me.  (Not everything worth keeping has to be useful, you know! )

Every room in the house has a hand-carved wooden box on a shelf or in a drawer.  Each one is caretaker of stuff I would never dream of parting with...peculiar rocks and stones, feathers and fallen plumage, broken jewelry, coral and shells from the oceans, lucky pennies, and even two pine cone scales that I picked up from the Vatican lawn.  None of these things have monetary value, but not even Bill Gates could afford what they mean to me.

The small things we choose to keep along our way tell a story about who we are and where we've been.  They are souvenirs of times that are no more.  I think it's emotionally healthy for us to lift the lids on the boxes once in awhile and wake up the memories that are sleeping within. 

My search for, and love of, wooden boxes will hopefully never end.  Nor my search for souvenirs to inspire and please my soul.  And, it will be more than okay with me if my gravestone reads, "Little Things Meant A Lot."   

Gosh, I just wonder if our attorney would think I'm nuts if I'd ask to include Mr. Mouse in my will.  Hmmm......