Paci in my purse

I was cleaning out the closet the other day, deciding what items had surpassed their prime, ready to move on to Goodwill and a new owner with more love to give than I. The rod squeaked as hangers were pushed aside in my search for neglected items. The drawer on my 34-year-old kid furniture wobbled as I pulled it open to inventory my collection of purses. I selected a few for the Goodwill box. I opened all the pockets and felt inside, hoping for a rouge $5 bill.

What I found took my breath away.

As I shuffled my hand through a large brown purse, I heard a small “clack” sound, plastic against plastic. I knew what it was the moment I grasped it. A pacifier. A white pacifier with a yellow teddy bear on the front.

I had not seen this item in a year. Amelia’s pacifier days are long gone. She sleeps with her animal friends, “cat” and “lambie”. She insists on grown-up nightgowns featuring the most beautiful Disney characters. She is fiercely independent.

I cannot believe Amelia is already three. But at the same time, those pacifier days are blurry in my memory. It’s funny how a year can go by so fast, yet seem so far away.

I am not sure how long I stood in my closet, grasping that pacifier. But it was quite difficult to put it down.