A small white seal sits on my desk, a knockoff from the era of animals stuffed with tiny, tiny pellets of I don't know what. It was Slater's favorite and I asked him if he wanted to take it to college. No, he said but me, I couldn't give it up.
It was something he loved and one of those things we pack after fifteen years in the same place. what was junk? what was permanent?
Hobbies came and went. There is still a scout shirt around here. Then there's the box, the box of course. The one I refuse to open. It contains the Whale Tales diploma meaning he graduated from a swim class when he was just a baby. A photo of him and his Dad, the one he took at school with Nan and Paw. Tom is in there, a peace sign patch from that decade party. The group of friends he had when he was just six years old. Seth, a letter from Shelby. A gold medal, a button in black and white telling, Ask me if I care?
They almost seem more precious here 'cause they made it.
Today I am so very grateful for who and what made it.