When I was a little girl, I wanted to be Stevie Nicks (actually, I still do).
Birthdays would come around, and Christmas, and always, the answer to "What do you want this year?" was a tambourine. Just like Stevie's.
A few years ago, after nearly two decades of requesting, I finally got my wish.
My mom and I had been out flea marketing together, and I spotted a wooden tambourine laying on a table, inconspicuous amongst old purses and creepy clown figurines. I looked at my mom, and I looked at the tambourine. Longingly.
On Christmas morning, I opened a jingling box, and pulled out the tambourine. My mom had tied long lengths of ribbon to the edge. Just like Stevie's.
A few days ago, while being dazzled by shiny internet distractions, I spied this little rhythm keeper.
A ticket stub, a backstage pass, and a lyric from "Sara" in Stevie's own hand.
Can you imagine???
I wouldn't trade my be-ribboned treasure for anything in the world.
But I wouldn't mind adding another, either.