There is beauty in old things. Things we grew up seeing all the time. Things we forget about until that one moment that you see it, or smell it, or hear it, and you remember what it was like to be 13 again, sitting in your room worrying about things that shouldn't worry anyone.
Will had a satin jacket he could not part from. Slept with it until the day he died. I love suitcases. Old, hard, plastic ones, that people give away at garage sales. I want to buy every one I see. I put them in the rafters of my garage and don't look at them again, but when I see one, I have to have it. Don't quite know why, I have never really used a suitcase or had a need for one. Most trips I take require a duffle bag. There is something I love about them though. My wife likes old quilts and soft blankets knitted from wrinkled hands. She calls them her secret blankets. Caeden likes them too.
Old things can trigger some real things in people. The smell of cigarette smoke on someones fingers or pipe tobacco. The sound of a train in the distance. The smell of an old elementary school. The hidden things you find in a thrift store or an antique shop. Old things remind us of who we used to be...of how we used to perceive everything or maybe just that one moment. They are relics of things forgotten. We will grab them before we grab our safe in a fire. There simply is no price for them.
What's yours?
Photo credit to: http://avotius.deviantart.com
Sing.
Migrate.
Thanks for reading...Z
