Keys, Love, and Luck.

       Everyone who has spent any amount of time with me knows my reputation when it comes to keys.  I lose them without even moving.  When I read the passage in Harry Potter about mischievous wizards who magic keys away from Muggles, I was pretty sure that’s what’s been happening to me all these years.  My dad had every key he ever owned.  He liked to make copies of them, then act aggravated when he had to come rescue me because I lost a key down a storm drain or left one in the pocket of jeans that I was trying on at the Gap.

When Dad died, I was given his wallet, his keys, and his watch at the hospital.  I gave the watch to my brother, Mike, but I kept the keys and the wallet.  And there were hundreds of more keys.  Little plastic boxes of keys.  Mason jars of keys.  Keys in drawers.  Keys in the shed and garage.  I ended up with a lot of the keys and they are in places all over my house and garage because I just don’t know what to do with them.    I saw a picture on Pinterest of keys welded around a wine bottle and then the glass was broken leaving a wine shaped bottle made of keys.  It was cool.   (I confess sometimes I look at Pinterest, even though I’m pretty sure it’s a site trying to take over the world one craft project at time) But I don’t know how to weld and I’m not even sure that’s how it was put together.  And what would I do with a bottle made of keys anyway?  Dust it once a week? And really touching anything of my father’s pretty much brings immediate tears.  It’s just too, too much to think about.

But this year on Valentine’s Day, James gave me keys with chains.  Old keys with words stamped on them.  Brave.  Breathe.  Create.  Hope. Journey.  Loved.   Jewelry.  Very James jewelry–repurposed, but so incredibly thoughtful and beautiful.  It blew me away.  It was like falling in love with him all over again.  I felt exactly like I did seven years ago when we were first discovering each other and it was a mad mixture of love and lust and “oh my God, is this for real?”  Then the next day when I went to Pueblo for another biopsy, hopefully the last, a friend gave me two more keys–strength and peace.  I can’t stop thinking about these words and how embedded they have become in my life.

I wouldn’t necessarily wish the journey of the past few years on anyone, but it hasn’t been all bad.  I have learned to be braver and stronger than I ever knew was possible.  And I have so many friends and family who have rallied to my side for all kinds of reasons.  I have gotten flowers and cards and ice cream and meals and socks and pajamas and hugs and calls and texts.  I never forget how loved I am.    And there has even been moments of peace–watching roses float out into the Atlantic in memory of mom and dad; sliding across the ice with Shayne while Dobie Gray sings Drift Away; listening to Darian’s voice blend with her steel guitar; creating a new blog or story; falling asleep with James’s arms wrapped around me.

I don’t know what else this crazy journey has in store for me next, but I think I might need one more key.  Lucky.