I had been telling my mom a few weeks ago how Matthew won't hold crayons/markers/pencils the right way yet, and that his teachers had suggested breaking his crayons in half so he's forced to hold them the right way. My mom called me into my old room and showed me a tub of crayon ends I had saved (who knows when) and thought we could use them. Then she told me "you know you have a whole tub of beads in here, too".
I had completely forgotten.
She pulled out a small margarine tub full of beads.
When I was younger (middle school maybe? 5th grade-ish?) I used to ride my bike up to Hancock Fabrics and buy seed beads with whatever money I had. I'd string them on fishing wire "borrowed" from my dad's tackle box. I was trying to make one of those beaded curtains - kind of a hippie doorway in mind. I had completely forgotten how much time I spent threading those tiny beads onto wire.
My first thoughts when she showed them to me were "great, I can sell those" and then it hit me. Why would I ever sell them? These are for me to treasure, a reminder of when my passion for beads began. I could never sell them.
Plus, they smell terrible. I'm not sure if it's the beads breaking down, or the plastic margarine tub (probably the tub) but they really stink.
So they'll live in my office with my other supplies (closed, though - don't want that funk to stink up my other beads!). They'll be a constant reminder of how it began for me and how much fun it was and how much fun it still is - every day.