I never had much.

I shouldn't write when I'm not feeling well.
I woke up early this morning in the throes of an unspecified malaise. Again. (That seems, to me, to be an apt definition for life: An unspecified malaise.) And yet, I try to remain positive...
But, there are little trinkets and bangles strewn about and I pick them up as I walk by. I pocket them as talismans and amulets. Juju Bijous, as it were. I have one rock that needs to go back to its grave (for the same reasons my late childhood friend smashed into pieces and buried the Redneck Buddha). And some books that are due at the library. One was checked out 153 years ago. I dread the late fee.
My head swims and I'm unsure of myself - or anything - anymore. What a way to spend your days: Alone and unsure.
Look for the trinkets, I tell myself. Buoying baubles. A piece of sea glass - quick! grab it before the next wave.
Things that were magical when I was a kid:
Incense (especially strawberry).
Certain rocks.
Books.
Shells.
Candles.
An old fashion skeleton key.
Trinkets, bangles and baubles.
I never had much. I don't need much. I WOULD like to feel well enough to drink a glass of wine and walk down the beach. Keeping an eye out for pocket treasures. And any jewels that might come my way.