carrying around a piece of my childhood

I’m fascinated how objects follow you through time. I moved from Chicago to France several years ago, and this keychain I never remembered packing has followed me.

I remember vividly the moment I first saw it. I was 5 years old. It was Christmas time and we were in one of the bedrooms at at my grandmother’s house. The walls were 70’s style dark-wood panelled and the beige carpet was soft and cushy on bare feet. We were sitting on the bed, trying hard not to bounce, as we’d been told repeatedly “no jumping!.” My aunt Sam brought my cousin Krista and me into the room because she had something for us.

She had two keychains, both shaped like hearts. One was big and smooth, with a bright red rose inside of it. The other was small, with scalloped edges, and a little yellow rose inside. We had to choose which one we wanted. I don’t remember who spoke first, but I do remember longing for that red one, and hoping my cousin longed for the yellow one in the same way. I felt such excitement at the prospect of having it be mine, and a fear that my cousin might want it too. In my memory, she chose first. The yellow one! I felt such relief! I could have that sweet red rose!

(After I post this, I’m going to email her to see if she has the same memory.)

I adored this plastic keychain beyond all reason. I didn’t judge or even consider what it was made of. A flower held immobile and eternal in some transparent material that reminded me of water and ice cubes and glass, just dazzled me. I remember being absolutely absorbed into it, noticing all the details, as children have the time to do. And almost 40 years later, I still know this keychain very intimately because of that time spent studying it.

I don’t recall putting it into a box or a suitcase. But here it still is, reminding me of where I came from, and transporting me back to that bedroom, to that house-full-of-family feeling, the joy and the giggles and the love.