Pebbles in our Pockets

We all carry memories like pebbles in our pockets. Our favorites are well worn as we finger them in solace.  Each ridge and surface is so well known that touch is no longer needed to feel.  Time wears all and the sharpest edges of these memories are dulled. They become polished.  They gleam and are more than they once were. They grow with us. 

I carry some pebbles loosely in my pockets so that I can retrieve them freely.  The remainder are in a leather pouch that has a draw string to secure the opening.  The leather pouch must be magical because it has no heft but contains the weight of my existence.  If I reach inside, my hand will find thousands, no… 10’s of thousands… surely an unlimited number. 

Some of these pebbles have more than one side.  Perhaps they are a coin or a token of our existence. These are harder to handle.  Are these fees that we were paid, or a payment that we never made?  They will have a sweet side.  A person, a place, a time.  The reverse will be bitter.  An embarrassment, a loss, an ugly truth.   You can’t give away these tokens nor buy anything with the coin, so you try to let them settle into the bottom of your pouch. 

Vanish.  They will never vanish even as we try to vanish from them.  The bravest of us will boldly withdraw them from our pouch and treasure the measure of their worth.  Both bitter and sweet have their place.  Some day all of us will be brave and hold freely all the tokens of who we are.