Antique keys hold so much mystery. They unlock the imagination. Who did they belong to? What secrets did they lock safely away? They represent security.
I was gifted a handful of keys (pic taken via iPad) recently from a lovely friend. I have great hope for their use as the possibilities are endless. I imagine using them in photographs, encaustic art, making a mobile or windchime, something loving and artsy. Instead, they end up hidden away in a drawer. Treasures of their own, ironically locked away for safe keeping, their potential lying stagnant as I cannot bare to part with them. Perhaps it was growing up poor that causes me to hang onto treasure as when I open the drawer that holds my collection, I feel like the richest girl on the block. That alone makes them worth their weight.
Still, it saddens me, this inability to use them. I fear not doing them justice. Not having an art piece turn out good enough. Not having the pictures successfully represent their beauty. It is the "not good enough" part that causes me to keep them locked away. "Not good enough" is not good enough for me anymore.
What a cathartic post! I wasn't expecting it to end this way! What an epiphany! I think I'll take my key collection and proudly display them in a bowl where I will pass them regularly and they can whisper to me and spark my creativity. They will say, "You are good enough! Come play!"
