It was no longer useful, the key to my country home. I don’t even know why I kept it. I just came upon it today while sifting through a box of similar old items. I know someone who collects keys but this one is hardly unusual. However, the memories it brings are not.
The key is to a half glass door to the kitchen in the back of my old house. We lived in a small town, but it was quiet except for the street we lived on. We were across from the hospital, so flight for life helicopters landed less than a block away, and sirens of course. Our street was also busy with traffic and a couple of times our front fence was visited by an errant driver.
The backyard was interesting. The key kept a separation between me and outsiders from the glassed in porch that only had a screen door. This included cats from the myriad collection two homes down. I fed birds and let the bushes and small trees grow close to the house so they could be easily viewed through the glass porch. There was an ancient double garage with heavy wooden doors. There was also a fairly new small canning underground hut.
One reason we liked this home was that it was built in 1940, with large wood cased windows and wood floors. It sounds like a large home but the whole one floor was about 800 square feet.
This home was very endearing mostly because my grandchildren were frequent visitors. It had tons of problems, mainly electrical, one outlet in each room, including the kitchen and horribly old wiring that caused frequent resets of the fuse box.
I put the key back. Why I’m saving it I don’t know. Perhaps when I open this box again, it will stir up new memories of what it protected.