When things don't matter, and the only things that matter aren't things, you start looking around at the items you worked so hard to accumulate and realize that they could all be threatened by fire and flood, and you'd grab the people in your life snd gladly let the rest of it vanish in smoke and water.
Then your mind stumbles on that one, old ragged item that you would cry to lose, and if the people were safe, you would actually snatch up and carry away with you. In my case, it would be a threadbare, faded, stuffed chimpanzee that went from my mom's college dorm room, to my childhood bedroom, and still sits on my shelf, still stained with my tears when first grade proved a scary unfriendly place, and with her ear still holding my whispered hopes the first night I kissed the man I've now been married to for 35 years.
That makes me think of the other thing that would matter. They aren't the things that can be bought for money, of course not, those are insured and a trip to the market takes care of the issue. The things that matter are those that are one of a kind, hand made, shared with loved ones, passed down through generations. The stories we hear from Grandparent laps to grandchildren ears. each generation gently shaping and adding their own features to a whole that still remains recognizable.
following the youtube video my granddaughter and I drew Cinderella, and hers became a Cinderkitty so we laughed and created memories along with the paper pictures
We went to story time and our octopus shared the same beginning but quickly became our own, and maybe in the future, if climate change allows a future, her grandchild might make an octopus and just maybe they won't be extinct. People matter, the humanities that allow us to choose kindness matter, the boredom we experience when we unplug allow us to de-tox from the political trash heap and find the spark of beauty we carry. "We are humankind, and we can choose to be both."
