There are these people you stumble across on the Internet and you don’t recall how you might have found them, but when you do it’s like their words are brightly colored ribbons that dance and wrap around your heart. Karey Mackin is one of those people and if you haven’t spent some time with her and her exquisite words I suggest you set aside 19 hours and do just that right this very minute. You’ll be better for it.
I’m so honored she (as she would say it) spilled some of her words here. Thank you, Karey – from all of us.
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My family moves a lot. Like most nomads, we tend to carry bits and pieces of home wherever we go, adding to our collections along the way. There’s a sun-catcher from Chicago that makes me ache for Midwestern kindness, the folk art piece purchased in Dallas that makes me cry whenever it plays its music, the most delicate capiz wind chimes and a giant mosquito-netted bed from Muscat that send me all the way to Bali where they were actually made, and too much to list from Virginia and Jordan.
But there are two not giant at all items I keep close no matter where we’re calling home. Man, but they mean the world to me.
The first actually belongs to my husband. It’s a teeny tiny trophy, earned when he was eight for attending every single piano class that he hated. Every one. It’s so small that it doesn’t even read Perfect Attendance. Just Perfect Attend.
Because it’s important to show up. Even if you hate what’s happening, even if you’d rather be somewhere else, even if even if. I’ll be here tomorrow and so will he. At the very heart of a relationship is the willingness to show up and keep on showing up and believing that your love will meet you there. Wherever. Every day, every week, every month, every year, without fail. Perfect Attend. That’s love. Even especially if there’s no room for all the letters.
The other thing I save is more for my girlies three. It’s a silly little car from my sister Lin’s house, given to me by my mom just after she died. I can’t explain it better than my other sister did in her eulogy to Lin, in just two short lines: She never let her nieces and nephew touch anything in her house. She let them touch it and twirl it and tuck it into their pockets for the long ride home.
So I guess, if I thought and thought about what these two much-loved items mean in a grander scheme, it’d be pretty simple. Show up every day, and touch stuff.
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Do you have a cherished and storied item that you’d like to share? Come find out more about Storied Collections and submit one of your own. We’d love to hear about it.