The meaning of possessions

I once worked with a guy who'd spent the majority of his adult life moving from place to place, most of these locations extremely international when compared to the everyday sanctuary of Los Angeles. During one of our conversations about books he mentioned that Graham Greene's The Quiet American was among his favorites. I asked if I could borrow it and he said no. Why, because it was one of his most prized possessions and he said that once you start moving around a lot, you tend to forget about everything that has no meaning and instead become quite attached to everything that does. Never did end up reading The Quiet American, but:

I did happen to pick up this ashtray in a little sidewalk shop in Monte Carlo when I was 22, green and gold and in the shape of a turtle. I remember it being one of the first things I unwrapped when I moved into my first post-college apartment in my same-college town. Then, a most integral piece of decor in my first Hollywood apartment, back when it was acceptable to smoke in the residence, and then later an objet d'art in my second Hollywood apartment when we sophisticatedly moved onto the balcony for cigarettes. It drove with me from LA/California to DC/Virginia and then later from Virginia to Nevada when I moved to Las Vegas. And right after I moved into my apartment here, I dropped it on the patio and it broke. I remember thinking what a shame when this tiny ceramic sculpture had made it to so many places and so far, and so, placed its broken pieces on my kitchen counter in hopes that it might someday be glued back together.

Took about a year and a half to get around to buying the glue because I can be pretty lazy like that--but long story short, tonight I actually glued it back together. And isn't it strange how pleased I am about that?

Feels like an awakening, the rebirth of this artifact.

I love this turtle ashtray. Not for its purpose but because of what it represents. Me being 22 and traveling around Europe back when it didn't really occur to me that a month of vacation isn't a given but a privilege; me being 24/25/26 and living in Hollywood like everybody just does that; me being 28 and moving to Washington, D.C. just to "try something different," and me moving to Las Vegas for "the experience."

Funny thing about certain possessions. They really do mean something.