Locked away in drawers, private memories of life's events, kept safe -- as if one needs to lock away such stuff. I keep mine exposed and hung on walls, in memory boxes. These are some of my treasures.
To say the people in my life are treasures would probably be an understatement. And the cats, of course. Well, at least Little Guy; Morrison, not so much.
Some of my small treasures--teeny tiny bottles from Jim, where he collected Pacific ocean water for me some 30+ years ago, now all dried up. In the other one is some magic of sorts, I can't quite remember.
A tiny pink glass elephant that my mother had a few of, but only this one survived.
So many thing -- things I covet. All amount to memories, it seems. What treasure doesn't evoke a memory? The contents of my old power pouch. Hummingbird wings. Crystals are my treasures, but do not evoke common memory, but memory of the ages.