I suppose I like to think of myself as a sentimentalist, but the truth is, I'm not.
I keep little trinkets and reminders of things, but I can't help feeling that I'm keeping them for the sake of sentimentality rather than for sentimentality, if you get what I mean.
Then, other times, I think I am a hopeless sentimentalist. I know I am a pack rat, but I like to think that I could just leave it all behind if I had to.
In the picture (or in my collection) there are:
11 various bus tickets, including two for the bus journey to Logan airport in Boston from Portland, Maine. And two from my very first bus journey in Ireland.
12 cinema tickets, two of which are from cinemas in Maine.
2 airline stickers from my plane journey here, along with 1 plane ticket.
A geode we bought at the Glengowla Mines in Galway, along which a packet of rocks we sifted for in the sand (while being eaten alive by midges).
A wedding invitation (the red flower) from friends of ours who were our neighbours in Maine, and now have a baby.
2 tickets to the speech at Harvard (Connecticut) which J.K Rowling gave to graduating students, also 2 programmes for the same and 2 Charlie tickets (for the subway) which we used for part of our journey there.
A ribbon I got for my birthday from the school I used to attend.
A map of a hill-walk in the Connemara National Park.
2 tickets to an open-air play we saw at King John's Castle, Limerick, along with 2 small coins that are made there.
A picture of me and my friends at my 12th birthday party.
A coaster from a pub in Dublin.
A feather from a very unforgettable trip to the Dan O'Hara Homestead at the Connemara Heritage and History Centre. I tried to feed the chickens and got pricked by a nettle. At least I got the feather though.
A large wooden heart (pink) which DD used to make.
2 American passports which have expired or are going to expire this summer and 1 Irish passport (put there for safe keeping) which is current.
A postcard from MM which she sent about three years ago.
4 diaries (all locked) in various stages of fullness.
Lots of scraps of paper about lots of different things.
So...maybe I am a bit of a sentimentalist after all.