Stinky shoes and tiny treasures

One of the best parts of every day for me is Elli showing me what treasure she's brought home for me from school. Usually it's something she finds on the playground, or sometimes a bead from the class art center, or (if I'm lucky) a picture she drew. Almost always, however, it's something very tiny. Yesterday she gasped as she remembered what she had brought me and ran to her shoes that she had taken off beside the door, took out the sole of one shoe, and retrieved a minuscule plastic decorative feather. It looks like it used to be blue but, judging by the faded color and general raggedy appearance, I'm assuming it's seen a fair share of winters on the elementary playground. I thanked her profusely, of course, laid the little feather down on the counter, and went about my busy afternoon, the feather seemingly forgotten. But, low and behold, I noticed it first thing this morning. I ALMOST swept it in my hand to bring to the trash can cause, let's be honest, how many tiny trinkets can one mom possibly keep up with? But I stopped. It dawned on me that one day, without warning, she will stop bringing me presents every day; that this hideous little feather could represent the last time her simple, child-like innocence spilled over on me in such a tangible way; that I am so grateful that she thinks about me still and wants to make me proud of her. So this time, the cute little piece of trash she collected for me will be taped in her baby book with a reminder jotted next to it of her sweet little heart that isn't jaded by worldly expectations or grown-up anxieties. And I'll cling to the goodness of my little daughter seeing a feather, thinking of her mommy, and doing the most natural thing that came to her: hiding it away in the safest spot she could think of until she was home again, which just so happened to be quite possibly the smelliest Dora-themed shoe in existence:)