A glass puppy sits on the shelf above a kitchen sink. Rather large in size, it certainly piques the interest of the unaware, but for the, "insider," it conjures up numerous imaginings.
The cookie jar is generations old, red and blue plaid, with black eyes. Cookies left it vacant long ago, and its soul purpose now is simply to be. The rambler imagines that her grandfather used to sneak cookies from this jar, as it belonged to his mother. She can almost see his feigned innocence as he tried to hide a handful of cookies behind his back. But now it sits quietly, smiling at anyone who happens to wash their hands.
It is not costly in a physical way, but rather it is made valuable by the recollections which it holds. So now it rests on its perch, holding memories rather than the precious cargo it once harbored.
Over and out,