Since then, I haven’t become overly attached to material things, but I have a few. There is one possession that has remained especially meaningful to me: a red, hard-covered book that someone gave me while I was in the hospital after the fire. Because I was unable to speak for several months due to smoke, the book became a way for me to communicate and record my thoughts.

Tucked inside are also the many “get well” cards I received during that difficult time. They were among the very first possessions I had after losing everything, and I have carefully kept both the book and the cards in a plastic tote ever since.

Other than those items, I have one other possession that means a great deal to me: my mother’s family ring. She gave it to me years ago before she moved to Canada’s West Coast. What makes the ring especially meaningful is that it was originally a gift from us, her children. My siblings and I saved up and bought it for her when we were younger. The ring contains the birthstones of all four of her children, making it a symbol of our family and the love we shared.

Today, it remains one of the few irreplaceable treasures I have managed to hold onto through the many changes and losses in my life. I wear it every day.

Note:

While writing this post, I received a call from my Dad notifying me that one of his surviving sisters passed away peacefully this morning. I hadn’t seen her in many years, but I still find it so very sad. This is one of the sucky parts about getting older.