Sitting there at the edge of the bed as my three-year old is falling asleep for nap time, I glance to the closet and see my nine-year old’s old gym shoes, sitting there, still, nothing happening. Looking at them, I think of the life my son gives to this object, he runs, he jumps, he ties them. He has used them, they have holes. He is so hard on his shoes! I can hardly believe it. Scanning the objects around me, the books, the beds, the blankets,etc. Amazing the life we bring to them. Amazing the memories we keep from them. His sweater, I take it down, it is blue, zips up in the front and I can picture him as a three-year old. Emotional, tears form and I think he will never be three again. Continue with the closet clean out, I am about to give this simple sweater away, no, I am going to keep it for 30 more years. His son will wear it. Maybe. Years ago before having children, I came home from work, my husband was traveling, alone, I was sitting on the couch, staring at the blank t.v. and thought how we give so many inanimate objects life. Without our existence they mean nothing. They are things, they sit, they don’t move. We move, we live, we give life. Objects they help us form memories, feelings, thoughts. My mind, returning to his athletic shoes, grateful they were sitting there and grateful for the journey of an inanimate object.