It started with a simple question — have you seen my car key?

A complex answer boiled down to a no.

So the search turned to her purse, discovering a ring containing more than 40 keys, each with a label stuck on. Who keeps such?

Keys of all shapes and sizes, keys for various functions, each unlocking a memory tucked away and perhaps never again to be recalled by her.

Keys to our first garage apartment, three rooms (kitchen, bathroom, living room/bedroom). $60 monthly.

And the second, larger with separate bedroom (daughter had arrived.) $70 monthly.

Keys to a series of houses purchased over the years, each with its own place in our lives.

Hotel keys (remember them, before electronic cards?), most as result of work-related travel – Peabody and its ducks, Fairmont and cable cars, Del Coronado and movie celebrities, Plaza and THE city.

Two rental space keys, where things eventually disposed of are put until they fade from consciousness.

Key to Hot Springs Village property sold when beach held more appeal.

Ditto Gulf Shores condo when travel became complicated.

Speaking of travel, one Samsonite key. Suitcase, about $90 at the time, last seen at Athens check-in, bound for Turkey. Perhaps someone thought she was smuggling antiquities.

Car keys from various models over the years, conjuring images of vacations near and far.

And the treasure – GM key to 1956 Chevy, fondly labeled the Honeymoon Mobile.

Ten years old but new to us as we set out on this journey called life.

And a good ride it’s been, flat tires, detours and all.

Note: Never found her current key. Hallelujah.