The hand made bow just felt so...heartfelt. I imagined that child fighting off trolls or beasts in their woods, or make shift forts. I have hung it on one of our back doors to remind me that an imagination is a gift we are born with...don't let it go stiff.
The painted rock was found by Martyn and I use it as a paperweight.
I have a dream that someday, when I'm at my end, I will have a visitor. A young woman will present herself as the little girl who is now grown up, but she is just passing through her old town and wanted to see the house, since it looks like it hasn't changed much. She has her own children now. I will point her to a shelf in the room or a basket by the bed, and she will pick up each item, and maybe remember them. What it might jog in her memory I don't know. But I'm talking care of these items, for some reason.
