a bell, but not a christmas one

Some people live being fed by any moment, by any feeling, by things which happen by chance. Perhaps that's the best way of taking life. Or perhaps not. Everyone has his point of view and one idea is as acceptable as another one. The man who I'm going to talk you about today was not borned to make people argue about how to face life, but to show us how important is every step we make, without forgetting in a drawer anything that had happened to us. Sometimes details are much more difficult to remember, and the evidence is that you know you had lunch yesterday but you don't remember exactly how many slices of bread you ate, or the exact quantity of salt you added to the soup. But some other times, little things are much more memorable than big events. That man was borned to be an example of this.
One day, when he was a child, someone hung in the door of a hen house a bell to warn when someone opened it. The hen house was in her aunt's field house. Since then and until three years ago, this bell has been in the same place where someone put it the first time. It has rang many times, and many times in the ears of that man of the story. During his childhood, and his adolesence, and his life until his fourties, so half a life is what the bell and the man have sung together. Four years ago, the hen house was destroyed because there weren't hens any more and the house needed some tidying task. That day the man took the bell and saved it into a box. And the box into the car. And the car took the way home. And the man, and the box and the bell on the car. And the box arrived at home. And the man has kept the box into a drawer since today. And today, by chance, he's found it and a life has rushed outside the drawer. And he's felt all those moments in his ears again, and has remembered himself playing, and running, and laughing around that sound. The sound of that little bell that represents half of his life.