In the flurry of cleaning up for guests last week, I picked up a resin plaque that has been propped up on the piano for quite some time.We got it for free for Halloween two years ago, when someone rang the doorbell and left a bag of goodies on our doorstep (kind of like the May Day basket ring and run). We unpacked the paper bag to find a pile of candy, cute Halloween socks, and this plaque.One of the kids propped it in front of some decorative boxes that sit atop the console piano and left it there.The plaque doesn’t match anything in that room, though; in fact, it looks out of place in an already cluttered spot. During last-minute straightening and dusting this past week, I grabbed the plaque to stick in a pile of “Things to Deal With Later.” I was thinking of giving it away.My son was practicing piano as I moved around the room with the dust rag. When I snatched the plaque, he stopped.”I love that sign,” he said, a wistful tone to his voice.”Really?” I replied. “I thought it was just taking up space. And it doesn’t really match anything in the room here. In fact, I wasn’t sure where to hang it.”He swung around on the piano bench and sighed. “Whenever I think about running away, I just remember what that sign says and I know it’s true.””You’ve thought of running away?””Sometimes.””And the sign keeps you here?””Well, not the sign, but what it says…and means.”I looked at it again, read the phrases carefully, and looked back at my son.”I remember when we got it,” he said. “It was at Halloween that one year, in the Boo bag. I remember how surprised we were to find such a nice thing in that bag.” He stared into space for a moment. “I’ve loved it ever since,” he concluded. Then he turned to face the piano keys and started working on his solo, “Longing,” a decidedly mournful song in a minor key.I stared at the cheap resin sign. Obviously there was no getting rid of it now, so I moved through the rooms looking for a spot on one of the walls where I might display it with honor. And gratitude.This afternoon, as I was snapping some pictures of it, one of my daughters passed through the room. “I’ve always loved that sign,” she said, tilting her head slightly to admire it.