Describe an item you were incredibly attached to as a youth. What became of it?
What small object survived your worst day—but vanished from a Super 8 nightstand?
Mine was a simple wooden cross necklace—lacquer-coated wood, brass eye screw at the top, black cord. I received it at a Catholic Confirmation retreat my junior year of high school. Surrounded by teens from other schools, I fell inexplicably in love with it. Wore it constantly, except when bathing.
The Fire That Almost Took It
Two weeks after Confirmation—May 28, 2007—I sustained serious burn injuries to my arms and chest. My shirt collar burned away. The black cord was destroyed in the chaos. In the hospital, as I faced blood loss and skin grafts, I assumed the cross was gone forever.
Then my sister found it—miraculously intact in our driveway. She brought it to me while nurses changed dressings. I was at my lowest point physically and emotionally. That wooden cross became proof of rescue when I needed a miracle most.
My Anchor Through a Decade of Motion
I restrung it as soon as healing skin allowed. For the next 10 years, it never left my neck, carrying me through:
• High school graduation
• College finals when I doubted everything
• Early days knowing my now-husband (we got together at 19)
• Hotel stays traveling with him, friends, family
• Road trips, work trips, and my first attempts at bread in the breadmaker
Through hotel check-ins, late-night talks, suitcase unpacking—the cross stayed steady. My talisman during that season of motion, before marriage and kids.
The Super 8 Loss
Then one careless moment at a Super 8 in Fresno, California. Forgot it on the nightstand. Realized at the next hotel. Called back. Nothing.
Ten years of survival—gone. I was devastated.
What I Carry Now
That cross wasn’t jewelry. It carried a decade’s worth of rescue:
• The driveway miracle my sister handed me
• Hospital reassurance when nurses changed dressings
• Steady presence from teenage faith to breadmaker experiments with my future husband
Looking Back: Attachment’s Double Edge
Losing it taught me objects anchor but don’t last. Their power lives in what they witness, not what they are. That cross saw me from scarred teenager to traveling 20-something experimenting with breadmaker loaves. It helped shape the woman who now kneads bread by hand with her kids’ sticky fingers on our homestead.
Its lessons remain. Some fires burn cords but not meaning. Some things leave nightstands but not memory.
What object got you through your 20s transitions—college chaos, early love, pre-kids road trips? Did you keep it? Lose it?
Share below—I want to hear your stories.
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