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A Sentimental Value: Herb Kit

On the day I left the forest, I had all but finished packing, spare clothes, comb, provisions and more. I remember looking around the room and spotting the kit, it's leather worn and faded, buckles tarnished and dull.

On seeing it, a memory slipped to my mind unbidden. The stinging where I had scraped the skin from my knee when I had slipped from the low branches of a tree outside. I recalled seeing the blood and feeling so incredibly scared, holding back tears and trying very hard to be brave.

I could not remember how old I was, but since I had been playing out, and not invested in chores, I must have been very small. I couldnt help but smile as I thought back to that tree. It felt like I was on top of the world, and that I had fallen so very far, but really, it couldnt have been more than a few feet.

My mother then, without reproach taking the kit, mixing a salve and applying it to my knee before pressing a warm poultice down, telling me to hold it steady. I remembered the smell of the medicinal herbs so clearly.

I half thought that there maybe other more important things to take, but the kit felt important. Not just useful, but I felt an emotional attachment to it. A last link to my mother.

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