Made it!
I was barely through the door of the Metro car when the sing-song voice over the speaker warned me politely to “Step back, doors closing.” Most Metro stops are crowded on weekday mornings and mine at King Street Station was no different. I made my way through standing passengers when I spied what was apparently a still empty seat. It wasn’t completely empty.
Art by Lucinda Jennings
Crumpled papers, a lipstick and two finger-nail files sat atop a mound of other items in the way. In the seat next to the mess sat an elderly woman digging intently through a massive purse. She smiled apologetically when she saw me and quickly reached over to move her items. A small pack of tissues, a couple of pens and a set of colored pencils were part of the heap of belongings she put back into her purse. I took my seat and gasped when something jabbed me in the left buttock.
“I think you forgot this,” I said, handing her the bristled end of a broken hair brush.
“Sorry!” she shook her head. “I wanted to clean out this old purse on the ride to work and I have thrown things everywhere.”
The train continued its route and she continued her cleaning. From the corner of my eye I watched as she sat bent over and shuffled through random pieces of old mail and checked and rechecked zippered compartments in the giant purse. As we approached the station at Braddock Road she stopped digging and suddenly sat upright.
“Well look at this.” she said wistfully. She held a small red marble between her thumb and forefinger. “I found it in my yard one day as I was leaving the house and forgot I’d put it in here. My son is now grown with kids but he had a set of red marbles he played with all the time. I’m sure it was one of his.”
“You should hold on to it then,” I said. She stared at the marble she held in her fingers. There was a pause.
“Nahhhh…I’m too sentimental as it is,” she said and handed me the tiny red object. “Here. If someone says you’ve lost your marbles, now you have proof you haven’t!”
We both smiled as she pressed the red marble into my hand.
“It’s crazy to hold on to it just because it reminds me that my son was once a tiny boy.” She turned and stared through the window as trees whizzed by. “Isn’t it?”
“Not really.” I said. “I have boxes of things like this marble." I slipped it into my coat pocket.
She turned back toward me and tossed the last few items into her purse that were still scattered across her lap.
“You wouldn’t keep something as silly as a marble, would you?" she asked.
“Oh yes.” I said, remembering some of my sentimental trinkets. “For decades I’ve kept a puppy tooth our collie lost, a feather from a quail I hatched in an incubator and a heart-shaped rock I found in the pasture. Everything has a story.”
“I just might keep that,” she smiled out of courtesy.
I continued. “I have the cracker tin my grandmother used in her kitchen, a tiny basket my son carved from a peach pit, and a pocket knife my favorite uncle gave to me.”
“I just might keep that too!” she smiled again and seemed to enjoy the notion of relevance in everyday trinkets.
I told her about various items I’ve saved, any one of which could look like meaning-less trash to others. To me, each one has something to say.
Who could know the number of times my grandmother’s caring hands opened the cracker tin? The sharp little puppy tooth is a reminder of my furry best friend. The peach pit basket was carved by my son with the help of my father who passed away a few years ago.
Every tiny silly trinket I keep is accompanied by a wonderful story. All I need to do is pick one up to go back in time for a min-ute or two. Good reminders of great times. At the mention of each of my keepsakes, the woman beside me eagerly agreed she just might keep that one too.
I stopped talking when she stared straight ahead, seemingly disinterested. Her eyes were a little watery, but a slight smile came over her face. She turned to me and point-ed at my coat.
One step ahead of her, I had already reached into the pocket.
We both smiled as I pressed the red marble into her hand.
“I just might keep that,” she said.
