It’s just an old jar. I find it while cleaning out my mother’s things. There are probably countless jars like this in landfills. Yet, I keep it. To me it is more than just an old jar. It brings back memories, memories I want to keep.
Back in the days of my childhood the jar sat on my mother’s vanity. I would watch her at that vanity getting ready to go out, putting on lipstick, curling her eyelashes, spritzing on cologne, choosing earrings and necklaces. I used tell her she was the prettiest lady in the world.
The jar is white glass, thick and shaped to be pretty. The plastic top is embossed with flowers. It was made back in the time when things like this were made in the United States. I think it held moisturizer of some sort.
I clean the inside of the lid. The cardboard seal inside releases a scent I haven’t smelled in a long time. The scent reminds me of my mother and of the time when she was young and I looked to her for everything - care and comfort. The scent brings back memories of the comfort found in leaning against her arm, of feeling her close. I felt safe and secure. This is a good memory, one I want to keep.
My mother is gone. The vanity where this jar sat is gone. I keep the jar as a touchstone to all the memories I want to remember.
