Two Stories About a Gold Heart Box

Recently my sister gave me the sentimental gift of a 1960s brass heart trinket box from Blue Birch Treasures. The note inside said, "my last owner also loved frequenting antique shops, flea markets, and craft sales to find special treasures and heart-shaped boxes in particular". Thank you prior owner, wherever you are.

The concept of a heart box has some now humorous origins as well. Back when we were kids, I was the perfectionist collector of the two of us, keeping my collections of Breyer horses, furry birds from Chinatown, and bath beads from The Body Shop in pristine order. The bath beads were kept in a gold-colored, ceramic heart box on top of a white IKEA dresser.

While talking on a spiral-corded phone one day, probably about middle school, the Backstreet Boys, or what to wear to the next Bat Mitzvah, my sister decided to scale the IKEA dresser to capture the elusive bath beads while I was out of our room.

Crash! Boom! Smash! Help! 

I poked my head around the corner of our room, phone still in hand.

In a scenario out of a parent's nightmare, the IKEA dresser had toppled over on top of my sister, with the heart box cracked into several jagged pieces, bath beads scattering across the floor.

"Ugh, I have to go," I said to my middle school phone friend, accenting the "Ugh" with an eye roll.

The bath beads were fine but the box was never the same after it was glued back together. I remember running my finger along the glue lines and cringing at the imperfections where once I had felt a smooth surface. I didn't yet know about the Japanese art of Kintsugi.

Oh yeah and luckily I saved you, Beeb. Thanks to my favorite sister for finding me my new favorite gold box.

Time period: 1960s.

Talk soon,

The Keeper of Things