Lydia

I first thought it just an old purse, hand-tooled- child sized- with braided leather strap and aged patina- purchased in an antique shop to hang on a wall or place on a shelf. But something unexpected came with the purse, it seems to have an id- that draws and imparts deep melancholy- that speaks to me over the years- of a treasured gift from a loving parent- a memento of happy days- that blissful innocence could not foresee ever coming to an end- of tragedy and pathos- then old age- of living with regret and dying alone. What is this pervading id- the deep sorrow that is sensed- to whom did it belong- why does it linger here? The reason seems very clear, I think I know the name- is it She- the one inscribed… Lydia Fiedler, Portland Expo 1905? You may rest now Lydia- go in peace- and know that your treasure is safe with me.