I would spin the little turnstile around and around looking
for the one with my name on it. Even though they hung in alphabetical order, I
would keep spinning it in hopes that my name had just gotten put in the wrong
spot.
But they never had a “Melissa,” or if they did, they were
out of them. For some reason, that’s such a huge disappointment when you’re a
kid. It’s as if you don’t exist.
You know what I’m talking about, right? Those little key
chains and zipper pulls that look like license plates? They’re probably still
sold at gift shops and novelty stores, but I haven’t seen them in eons.
I thought about that the morning after Quinn was born. I wondered if he would ever find a little
plastic license plate with his name on it. The name is becoming more popular, so I suppose it’s possible.
But even if Q never finds one, that’s okay because a couple
of my friends found some “Quinn” items that are way better than a cheap hunk of
plastic.
My friend, Robin, found this candle, and the scent is called
“Quinn.” Don’t let the description fool you. That hint of tobacco smells divine.
Then, just the other day, I received a package from my
friend, Stef.* In addition to a couple other sweet gifts, it contained a box of popcorn with the brand name “Quinn.” Parmesan and rosemary flavor? Yes, please!
Who needs a flimsy zipper pull when you can have yumminess
with your name on it?
*BTW, my two Boston
gals had their babies. Both
girls. So precious! Time to plan another trip out there...
