Sentimental Old Fool

Okay, so sue me. I’m a sentimental old fool. But I won’t apologize for it. Some things needs to be remembered, and some relationships, whether they’re with people or inanimate objects, have to be honored.
Friday I set about repairing some things around the house. We had some Halloween figurines that needed to be repaired. My plastic cauldron needed to have the fabric “flames” re-attached. But the most important thing, for me, was that I decided to finally repair something that has been in need of it for many years now.
I imagine you’ve noticed the picture I’ve attached with this blog. These are my chimes. I have them forever, it seems. So long that I can’t remember exactly when I got them. All I remember is that my mother gave them to me. Through the many years, they’ve become a part of my consciousness and my being. Their sound is something that’s lodged in my soul somehow. Maybe it’s a sound I associate with “home” and “peace”. Honestly, I’ve never really examined it.
All I know is that these chimes are special to me. They’ve been broken for a long time. I’ve always intended to repair them, but I never found the time. For years I was rushing in the door and taking a deep breath before rushing back out again. I’d lost those precious moments that I used to cling to, when a few moments of solitude and silence could soothe most discontent, and the soft, lonely ringing of these chimes could carry me away to a world where I still believed that there was real hope and possibility.
Well, I’ve gone on long enough about these chimes. All I know is that I’m glad to hear them ringing again. Perhaps it speaks volumes to what this means to me that, as I was standing out in the yard today after hanging the chimes from a tree, a poem by J.R.R. Tolkien came to mind. I’ll post it below and let you make your own conclusions.

All that is gold does not glitter,
Not all those who wander are lost;
The old that is strong does not wither,
Deep roots are not reached by the frost.
From the ashes a fire shall be woken,
A light from the shadows shall spring;
Renewed shall be blade that was broken,
The crownless again shall be king.

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