In the drawer is a box made of carved and joined bits of driftwood, which holds objects meaningless to anyone else but sacred, precious, unforgettable to you...
I reach under my bed, and grab my special box. Inside the box is a velvet bag, and I can faintly hear the jingle of coins. I open the bag and out falls a dozen or so coins. The smushed, smooth copper is cold and slippery in my hand. I flip each penny over and reminisce on the places that I have been. Each penny is imprinted with a place that I have traveled to. Even as a child, I was always drawn to those crank machines, with the exposed gears. "Put in a penny, create a keepsake", the machines screamed at me. Ever since my first exposure on the Jersey Shore, I was hooked.
Jersey Shore, eh?
ReplyDelete:)