All that a keychain holds

Carabiners, lanyards, wristlets, key rings. They hold very little physically. A key or three or five, rewards cards for your favorite coffee shop or gas station, maybe even a souvenir trinket or two. Nowadays little hand sanitized bottles are strapped in, ready to be used.

But the things we carry with us have a value much more than the jingle-jangle they produce as you look for the right key or the weight you feel as it hangs from your wrist or sits in a pocket.

The key to a car that’s seen you through good times and bad, your temporary escape on four wheels.

Access to four walls you work hard to keep and are grateful to have, access to where you spend your 40 hours each week.

Perhaps the carabiners or wristlet are well past their prime, but you keep them, either out of patience or nostalgia, waiting for one to snap before you replace it and hoping to God that you don’t lose what’s on it. After all, you got that coiled cord at the check-out at some hardware store. It holds meaning, memories.

Those key chain trinkets that make all the neighbors know when you’re coming and going are more than just obnoxious noise-makers. They’re comforting, in their noise and their weight.

A turtle or shell picked up in some chatchke tourist shop in Georgia or Florida, maybe some fidget chain that just spins and spins.

Perhaps a small tablet one with your name encased in some material that flashes in the sun. Or maybe a friendship bracelet that someone made you that was so small, so simple, but you just can’t bear to part with.

More jingle as they knock together, mementos from past travels each vying to come out on top and maybe even getting tangled up along the way.