If we're being honest, I like to jingle when I walk. Ok, jingle isn't really right. It's more like "chingle" - my own word, possibly, but less like a tink, tink, tink, and more like a ching, ching, ching, the subtle knocking together of little treasures. I like the small public signal of sorts ...the small sound that marks out my own presence in the world, like a perfume might for the sense of smell, the tapping together of my old charms becomes the sound of "me" when I enter the room.
This collection started from a very sweet and unique wedding gift from my friend, the Tulip, and has grown little by little, and then greatly after a recent trip to a nearby town's antique mall when my mom was visiting. Our apartment is filled with my collections- books, old notebooks, old photographs, stamps, erasers, advertising pencils, whales, really, I could go on and on - but all these things stay, for the most part, at home in their places. The charms- they're a collection I carry, and I love that.
It's been a trying year, maybe no trying than others, but the one you're in can sometimes feel the hardest regardless of the truth - it's the freshness of the situation, I think. It's snowing again, as it has for quite a few days, with more snow coming in the days to follow. Last night while Andrew was at work I took a late night walk by myself to get some air, fresh air, to clear my head, to chill some of the weight of daily life away. Rounding the corner back to the apartment I heard the clingle of my little charms as my scarf moved slightly, giving them room to dance around my neck. It was a reminder, a subtle but clear reminder, that I'm still here; even in the cold and dark, I'm still here.