Letter to Emma
My keys, oh my keys. The keys that caused you and me to run all over the house like a chicken with our heads cut off trying to find them before school. I remember being so frustrated and annoyed that we would alway be running a few minutes late because we could never find them. We would be looking between the couch cushions, on the table, under my covers, and it was always the bright blue and yellow minion from Despicable Me you made me out of rubber bands that always caught my eye and made me find it. Then the bright pink lottery ticket scratcher I got for free at the gas station.
I remember you always asking me where I got it and what it is, even after I would explain it to you 100 times. A pink and white rubberband bracelet you made me is still on it, also a bottle cap with a letter ‘A’ for my name that you made me not too long ago. I have my gym membership ket and my house and car keys connected, nothing too special. Mom and dad got me that red convertible keychain made out of sterling silver from the Prada store in Las Vegas with the wheels that actually spin, I think you got more of a kick out of it than I did.
My keys are more heavy than other peoples keys, only because of how much stuff I have dangling off of them, mostly the things you made me. I will never get rid of them because whenever I look down at my keys, I don’t think about driving or my car, I think about you because of all those little crafts you make me. The weight of my keys in an abstract way would be weightless because they bring me so much joy and happiness.