Object Lessons

Dear You,

On a recent evening with friends I noticed a little pile of stones surrounding a potted plant on a side table. "I pick them up wherever I go," explained my hostess. And she listed some of her favorite places, each stone provoking a smile and a memory.

In nearly every room of my house are little things -- a tiny clock here, a glass figure there, little bits gathered from a long-ago beach walk and little presents brought back from trips. If I really worked at it, I could catalog them; no doubt, however, I would forget a few -- there are so very many. What I enjoy, then, is the happy discovery (and the resultant memory) when my eye falls on one of these when I am otherwise occupied. I might open a drawer, or push aside a photo frame, or reach for a book . . . and there it is: Didn't that come from Manomet? I muse?

No doubt nearby is an old woman or man in a nursing home, looking back and trying to recapture a lost adventure, struggling through the cobwebs of fading memory. If she or he is fortunate, some object from that past is at hand to light the way.