Stuff

That's what some people might see them as - just stuff.

I have a three inch plastic statue of a woman holding a kitchen towel standing on a white pedestal that reads 'mom'. ...as if I didn't recognize myself.

In my yard near the pond is a large old broken piece of concrete block. It's covered with small black polka dots. In the center is written MOM with felt marker.

Above my stove sits a Mount of Olives Treasurers mint tea box. Three tea bags remain that I will never use.

Wooden cowboy hat and boot, gun, and sheriff badge magnets surround a popsicle stick frame that holds a picture of my son. The sticks are decorated with red felt marker hearts.

A reindeer magnet holds a burlap hanging. On the burlap are three owls in vertical form. Each are made from pretzels and half walnut shells.

Precious treasures given me from my children over the years for various reasons. Not just random but each hold a very special memory - memories they may not recall as the 'stuff' meant more to me than they did or do to them.

Guess that's why I am the holder of the 'stuff'.
I like my stuff.
I dearly love my children.