This post isn't unique to me. It applies to all of us - all genders, all ages. I say this because at an early age we all start to secret things away that are precious to us. Sometimes the things we secret away are inexplicable. A toddler might tuck an acorn someplace special to rediscover another day. (Well, let's hope it's not THAT special place.) Or a teenager might secret a pressed flower between pages of a book hidden in plain sight on a bookshelf. Or a little boy might secret away a toy car that's missing a wheel, but inexplicably he keeps it. I think it's in our nature to keep precious things - tuck them away until the time is right to revisit.

I've moved quite a bit over the years and culled a lot of stuff, but it seems that tiny boxes of this and that, and drawstring pouches of that and this have followed me across the country and then back some, and have now landed on a mountain with me.

Since my diagnosis I've felt compelled to try to winnow the chaff in my life. It isn't an easy task. I'm sentimental.

So, when is minutia not minutia?

Below are photos that best illustrate my dilemma and solution to some of the minutiae I've collected. As I've peeked into tiny boxes and slid open pouches, there's been lots of fun to be had in revisiting memories. It's sometimes strenuous exercise for my brain as I try to recall the reasons for all the marvelous *stuff* I've kept.

I must confess, with a full and grateful heart, that I'm so very, very glad I kept the minutiae for now, these days... to leisurely stroll through the years and realize that I've made some missteps, but to embrace the delicious concept that I *lived* my life fully, and as much as possible, on my own terms.




This glove was my mother's. The four rings represent three from my second marriage and the toy ring my first husband gave me when he proposed. The pins are costume jewelry of my mother's. The watch was a gift from my parents when I was a young girl.






This silver bell was my teething ring. The silver has a tarnished patina and there are dent marks where I gnashed. Who keeps this kind of stuff! Me.






This angel is a found object - something I discovered in the woods or a street somewhere and thought it was enchanting so I secreted it away.





The beautiful lacquered box was given to me by Dad & Mary after one of their many travels around the world. Little treasures can be found inside.






Several of my minutia are tucked into art I created at this year's Shakerag Workshop. This wall design is unstructured as I continue to add precious pieces.




Portions of a cookbook I wrote/compiled for my children. My beautiful daughter, Rachel, and I are the Main Dishes!






This compilation of minutiae includes a photo of my adorable little sister. There's my baby hospital bracelet made of tiny beads that spell my surname. There's a small medallion of St. Francis of Assisi, and there's a photo of me holding my precious firstborn, Chase. Attached is a car game piece from Monopoly. I kept it on my desk for years and years. It represented my dreams of *going somewhere*. There's also a clipping of a letter from my mother. In closing she wrote: Take care and be good to yourself. Love, Mother.






Here's more minutiae that will find its way back into a box or drawstring pouch. This grouping includes my husband's Beta Theta Pi pin that I once proudly wore when we were *pinned* in college. The other is my Alpha Phi pin. The ribbon was given to me when I pledged Alpha Phi. I believe the ring with the red stone was my children's great-grandfather's Cornell ring. The slender gold ring was my first wedding band. The ring with the two tiny yellow topaz was given to me by my parents - perhaps my 16th birthday? The gold circle pin was my children's great-grandmother Bean's. It's an odd assortment of minutiae that will be secreted away again for someone else to discover.

Disclaimer: I've tried my level best to properly use the words minutia and minutiae. They are dreadful words... yet I used them because they were so fitting.