There is a shirt that hangs in my closet. It doesn't belong to me, but it has hung there everyday for the last 15 years. It has lived in 3 houses, 4 dorm rooms, and 2 apartments. It graduated high school with me, it went to college with me, it was there when I started my first job. It has been through more boyfriends than I care to remember. It was there when I got married. It will still be there when I have babies. It will probably even be there when they go to college.
It's a 1980s western style brown stripped pearl snapped shirt. You will never catch me wearing it in public. It wouldn't match and its much to big. But sometimes when I'm home alone, I take it out and slip it on. The shirt is magic. Somehow I can breath a little easier and walk a little taller. I become a little girl again, eating popcorn and watching Animal Shows.
Someday when I am very old, I will see the owner of the shirt. I know that when I walk up to those big pearly gates he's gonna be sitting in a lawn chair with his whittling stick. 
I have a ring. It's got a tiny, tiny, tiny little diamond in a silver band. It's not worth a thing in the market, but to me, it's priceless. The ring makes me feel better. I don't care if it doesn't match what I'm wearing. But it was on my Grandma's finger up to her last day. It's the most treasured artifact I will ever own.
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