When I pulled this strange object from the dirt, my first thought was that I’d stumbled onto something forgotten by time. It was heavy in my hand, made of thick glass with a weathered blue-green tint, and coated in layers of soil as if it had been buried for decades. I turned it slowly, noticing the smooth dome shape on top and faint lettering molded into the glass, worn almost unreadable. It didn’t look decorative, and it definitely wasn’t modern. Whatever it was, it had been built to last. Holding it sparked that rare feeling you get when you realize you’re touching a piece of everyday history—something once ordinary, now mysterious simply because the world moved on without it.

As I stood there, I couldn’t help imagining how it had been used. Maybe it once played a role in connecting people—carrying messages, power, or information long before smartphones or even televisions existed. It might have been handled by workers who never imagined someone generations later would find it and wonder about its purpose. Objects like this remind us how quickly common knowledge fades. What was once obvious now becomes a puzzle, and what was once essential becomes a curiosity. Finding it felt lucky not because of its value, but because it offered a glimpse into a quieter, slower era when tools were simple, sturdy, and built with intention. It’s amazing how a single object can spark curiosity, connect us to the past, and make us realize that history isn’t just found in books—it’s sometimes waiting in the ground, ready to be rediscovered.