Find the blue paisley jewelry pouch, the one that is trimmed in white lace and lined in purple satin, that has all the clever little pockets inside.
Fill it with the ephemera of five decades, starting with your oldest possession: the tiny grey porcelain owl with the bright yellow eyes from when the summer you were five, living in Virginia. Add in the sterling silver heart on it's fine serpentine chain, a gift from Dad when you were nine living in rainy Luxembourg.
Next, the silver cuff bracelets - the thinnest you bought when you were 15 at Tyson's Corner Mall when you moved to Maryland. Then the heavy Celtic knotwork from your first paycheck in Santa Cruz when you were 22. The equally heavy tribal cuff from Herland during your first Saturn return, now in your thirties. Are these accessories to the time? Like the antique locket from your mother's great aunt in Sweden, you have consistently worn these until the wildfires of 2020. Now your wrists look thin and bare, even the spiral tattoos have faded.
Add in the two hearts, one clear crystal, one red jasper with black flecks, from the first time we attended Pantheacon over Presidents Day Weekend in 2008. Since then, these hearts have traveled as far north as the Bonner's Ferry, Idaho, as far south as Maui, and as far east as the West Gambia.
Sprinkle in the "I'm engaged to me" ring, with the triangular lilac sapphire and two diamonds, the opal ritual ring, the thick thumb ring with the dancing goddesses from the Hopland's Women's Music Festival in 2005.
Slowly blend in the antique gold watch, found cleaning out the shed when you lived at 325 Broadway, time encapsulated on its cracked face. A bone hair pin from your freshman college roommate at Wesleyan. And the tiny silver Tardis for Amber's 21st birthday that somehow never made it to the charm bracelet.
Wrap with a burgundy cord and knot it three times saying,
In the name of the maiden, the mother and the crone, I'm here by myself but I'm never alone.
You have no idea if it will be lost in a earthquake, or stolen like the time your car got broken into in San Francisco right before going on the Global Walk. Maybe it will be passed on for generations. Maybe it will be sold piecemeal at Pawn Shops, Flea Markets, or online auctions. So just let it go. And experience time release.
Blessed Be.
