Keys

When I was a child my Mother was forever losing her keys.  She'd tie things to them to make noise when she shook her purse, or bright colors so she could find them.  Finally she resorted to giving her older children spare sets of keys for when she, inexplicably, locked them in car (usually with some well meaning small person's help), or lost them in the house (again, we were usually to blame.)  Somehow I never managed to have my own set of keys.  I'm not sure if this is because I inherited my Mother's talent for losing things or if there were mild cases of kleptomania in my parent's house.  Then I left.  


I was already in college and had no intention of moving back after that and for a year I didn't have keys.  Sure my college dorm had locks but rather than keys we had temperamental "key cards" that still give me a headache.  And then I moved to Texas.  And I had keys again.  When I returned to Ave for my final year in college I brought my keys along with me.  I hung them on my computer bag to sparkle auspiciously and lend a pleasant klinking noise whenever I walked.  I got silly key chains- a silver dragon which was eventually replaced by a fluffy Ewok.  My spare keys still have a Lego Hermione from Harry Potter.  Those keys were my ties to a home, even though I couldn't use them.  I never told anyone but those keys made me feel needed- like I had a place to belong.  I had a home that was safe and that I could enter because I had the ability to unlock it.  


Now I am going to California and I really have no need to bring my keys with me.  My house key and mail box key would be utterly useless there and I'm not bringing my car so I really shouldn't be dragging it around with me.  I know it's silly, but this is one of the things that I am most upset about leaving.  How can something so insignificant hold you back?  The simple answer is it doesn't hold you captive like a lock would, but rather, it sets you free.