Once, I dug my fingers into the tiny pocket of my new jeans; and pulled out a Fender guitar pick.
When I was in high school; I turned the page of One Flew Over The Cuckoo’s Nest and a perfectly flattened pot leaf fell into my lap.
Before the boys came home from the hospital- we bought a dresser off of craigslist. When we got home I opened the drawers to find that two little girls had been practicing their hand writing in crayon.
Some people, perhaps most people, think used stuff is gross. I guess I’m just not the kind of person who cares all that much. In fact, I’m not just indifferent. I prefer to envision the same things I live with today, in some past mysterious world. Maybe meaningful; maybe not. Definitely holding someone’s attention long enough to be purchased, made, or shared. There’s such an exhilaration when I discover a story in a drawer, in a pocket, or between the pages of required reading. A clue.