Somewhere between my house and driving to Illinois (Ill-ah-noise) I broke my key chain. You may be scoffing to yourself ‘what a huge deal, the world cannot continue spinning, Kat!’
It’s not that big of a deal, but it really did mean a lot to me. I have had my initials keychain since I was 15. Stop scoffing, six years is a lot if you’re barely over two decades.
It was a gift from my at-the-time boyfriend who had made it for me in his woodshop class (cliche, no?). He tried multiple times and kept cutting the corners too close and broke off the letters. This was a labor of love and obsession, or perhaps just a labor of boredom and assignment.
Me and that guy have since parted ways, and therefore it holds little value based on the giver but I still cherish that it was handmade and has ALWAYS been on my key chain. That little buddy was what made my key chain immediately recognizable in a pile of rings.
I also found this freakishly ominous (not to read too much into it) because I will be graduating soon and there will be a new definition of self as I step into the professional realm. Also, at the end of this summer I will have a new last name, only the last initial broke off.
I have considered finishing the break of my last initial and just leaving the first two. I have also considered getting a new one made, with my new initials. It will be a good conversation starter with people that know my last name. I will answer by saying, “I nabbed it off of some chick in an elevator.”