Tuesday, October 9, 2007
They say that looking through a woman's purse is like glancing through her life; or if they don't say that, they should. I don't really have a regular purse at the moment, but today I realized that the contents of my pockets have reflectively evolved. Whereas I previously toted cash, a Full City card, my house keys, and a cell phone, these days the assortment is slightly different. I still carry my house keys (on the same old flip-flop key chain that I used all last year), because I really need them to get in and occasionally out of the house, but I also always carry a small stone. I found it over a year ago either on the shores of Lake Michigan or the Oregon coast, I don't remember beyond the fact that I was with my family in a place that I absolutely love. The stone is about the size of a fifty cent piece in diameter, but at least twice as thick, and worn smooth by the countless times I have fumbled with it. There's nothing extraordinary about the rock when you look at it (sorry family, it's not a petoskey), but it is a piece of home that I have with me always, and as such has become rather sentimental. It would be the perfect skipping stone, but I'm not ready yet to fling it away from me. The other interesting thing that has begun to make a semi-regular appearance in my pocket is a tissue. I know that this is common in pockets all over the world, but had someone asked me a year ago whether I would ever carry a kleenex in my pocket I would have confidently asserted that such would never be my lot. I remember that as a kid I noticed my grandparents always carried tissues in their pockets. This practice always disgusted me even if they were clean. Just the idea of putting...well, that... back in your pocket sent a spark up, and right back down my spine. This morning when I went to put my keys and my rock in my pocket I found the place already occupied by a kleenex. Even though I know it is purely practical because the weather here has me constantly in sniffles I found myself slightly aghast. I have skipped over becoming my mother and moved straight on to becoming my grandmother.