from Hayley, who was a child liked to play with anything grown-up, including keys. she sent a letter in October and another in late December, and now I have sent something back to her and it is August.
Beth-
Enclosed are a homemade set of lockpicks that I made when I was fourteen. To try to prevent me from sneaking out, my mom put a lock on my bedroom door with a double sided keyhole—and she had the only key. Of course, she underestimated my desire to get out of her house every night.
I’m all grown up now and have no more need for them, but for some reason I’ve never been able to just throw them away. Thus, they have made their way to you.
So, not a conventional key, but they unlocked the door to freedom all the same.
Love,
Rebekah
It must have been in the early 2000s, if not 1999, when I first moved to Massachusettes. Being only around 9 or 10, this was only my first or second time in a big city like Boston. I remember that on the edge of a fountain, near a huge building (now I assume it must have been a building of apartments), I found this monster key. I justified taking it because it was in plain sight for anyone to take (and of course there’s the rule of “finder’s keepers”). After I took it home, I realized that taking this key may have actually left someone in anxiety for the loss of their key. With a little regret, but mostly out of pride for my first rebellious act, I stuck this oversized key on a tiny little purse up until now, months before my 18th birthday. Only recently did I unearth my purse and find this key again. On behalf of the mysterious previous owner, I hope this reminds you (or anyone else) not to leave oversized keys where little girls can take them!
Best Regards,
The Monstrous Key Owner/Thief
(note: it’s worth pointing out that Sylvia K, who sent this key, is a tremendous artist. she is modest on the internet, but her work is worth seeking out, and she did a beautiful portrait of me that can be seen here.)
Once upon a time, in a small town in Italy (constantly plunged into fog), there was a little girl in a pretty red coat. She felt lost, lonely, clinging tight to her stuffed animals. All the time, she drew. But she was somehow ashamed of it, and hurriedly hid her sketches in a locked drawer. No… that little girl was me. I have been sharing my art (in fact, giving it away too… I own very little of it) for years, and it’s the most beautiful feeling ever. Therefore, I don’t need the key to my secret drawer anymore. I’m sure you’ll have a better use for it.
-Sylvia K
Dear Beth,
This key used to open the door to the garden in my building. We lost our home in 2005, and were rehoused in a really nasty area. I fought hard to get out.
When I got the letter saying we could move I jumped for joy and twisted my ankle. Good, eh?
I’m grateful every day for living here and for the garden. Despite living almost in the city centre, it’s huge, full of trees and my wee boy and I often see squirrels, magpies and all sorts of other creatures.
They changed the lock a little while ago (and neglected to give me a new key…), and so it seems right and proper to send you the old key. I hope it’s not too heavy for your dental floss.
Love,
Julie
This key is from Mark. He writes:
“So, to make this shorter, here is the key to a black Julius Keilwerth alto saxophone that has sat in a closet in my parent’s house for 3+ years. I’m still a dork in college, just a non-saxophone playing one.”
I love that Mark prefaced his letter (which is abridged here, because some things I keep just for me) by saying that he isn’t a great storyteller, but in half a page he managed to tell me more than I would learn about him if we met on the street.
