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Authors: Carol Hutton

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Under the beanies, there were all sorts of things. Beth had left Anna her sorority key, the amethyst crystal rosaries she
got from Sister Rosemary when she was the May Queen in sixth grade, pieces from the Monopoly game, including the deed to “Boardwalk”
(
finally,
Anna thought), all her Girl Scout badges sewn with childish stitches on the long green banner, and many photos of the two
of them taken with Beth’s Brownie camera.

Anna smiled as she slowly reached for the stack of postcards. Beth had saved the messages Anna had sent her over the years.
There were postcards from San Francisco, London, New York, Portland, Tokyo, Sydney, Kauai, and Frankfort. She had kept them
all, and wrapped them together with the black armband she had worn at their graduation in 1970. Anna’s eyes misted as she
reread the greetings she had sent to Beth over their adult lives. The mist turned to dampness, then to streams of tears when
she opened the plain white envelope and slowly began to read:

My dearest Annie,

I hope you are happy, and no longer sad, by the time you find this “treasure chest” I’ve put together for you. The girls and
Tom helped me. And I think doing it was good for them. I know it helped me. I’ve left you a lot of things I’ve treasured for
years, including the pin I bought in London that week before my surgery. You may remember, there was a Celtic exhibit in Liberty’s,
and I was moved by both the beauty and meaning in the art. Wear it, Annie, for the rest of your days, and may it give you
the understanding and comfort it offered me.

I’ve tried my hardest (I better not write “damnedest,” I
am
dying, you know. Not exactly the best time to gamble with profanity!) to get all the pieces in place for you. I’ve prayed
for help to do that for quite a while, and John (I know you will have met him by now) has promised to do all he can on his
end. So there really shouldn’t be too much left for me to say that I haven’t, or anything you didn’t understand that you don’t
now.

My gift to you, dear friend, is what you already know. So go to it. I know you can. People will listen to you; they always
have. And on the outside chance they don’t, well, you never cared what people think anyway.

Remember, I’m with you always, and I love you for all time.

Your friend,

Beth

Anna opened the purple velvet pouch and carefully removed an unusual, handcrafted pin of fascinating swirls and knots. The
pin was attached to a piece of parchment describing its art and meaning:

Celtic Symbols Knotwork—Eternal Journey

For the Celts, existence was a journey toward the sacred worlds of gods and goddesses, which continued over many lifetimes
before completing the search and returning to the divine source. This pin symbolizes the endless riddle of life through successive
rebirths, with its intricate swirls and patterns reflecting the continuous search for eternal life. The interaction and intermingling
of the knotwork convey an acceptance of the many levels of existence in the universe, and a sense of being connected or knotted
to all the mysteries of the cosmos.

Anna very carefully held the delicate pin against her heart before fastening it on her sweatshirt. And, with this action,
all the pieces of the puzzle of her life came into clear focus, creating a picture for Anna affirming all that she had just
come to understand.

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