The good things will live in our hearts.

23 Mar

I’ve been cleaning my room for about a week now. It seems like every time I clean I have stop for at least a few hours to sift through this old pink boot box in the back of my closet. I keep almost everything that has any sort of meaning to me, and this box is like a little passport to special memories in my life. Sure, I could throw these things away, but for some reason I can’t seem to part with certain items. The box is filled to the brim and will probably need replacing soon.

There are at least two years worth of movie and concert tickets stubs. Notes passed in class. One of the handmade invitations to my sweet sixteen. Dozens of old birthday cards. Wristbands from every single school dance and event. Postcards from places I will never visit. A game card with a little sticker of my best friend and me from my eleventh birthday party. Of course the material things aren’t what’s really important. It’s the memories they trigger. I can pick almost anything out of that box and magically go back to that moment in time. The invitation takes me to the metro ride home from my sweet sixteen dinner. In the middle of our impromptu boy band sing along, a little girl on the train asked us why we all so dressed up, so we told her about the birthday party. You could just see it in her eyes, imagining that one day she would be able to look forward to such a special celebration. That memory puts a smile on my face. Then there are the silly notes, filled with seemingly pointless topics like boys and teachers, but I know how much they meant to me and my friends. There is a particular purple wristband among the tangled mess this box holds that makes me want to laugh, smile and almost cry. It’s from the time my friends snuck me into a students only pep rally, not long after I’d left public school. I remember begging my mom to take me up to the school, worrying that we wouldn’t make it on time. Wearing my purple t-shirt and hoping that no one would notice how out of place I felt. When I arrived they handed me the wrist band, I threw on my old ID, then we laughed, cheered, and screamed our lungs out. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to thank them enough for that day.

From the outside it’s an old boot box, but to me it’s so much more. It’s filled with things that trigger the memories that make me who I am. I often feel like the memories I’m making now will speed by too quickly. Thankfully the big pink box is always there to catch a few little reminders of the all good times, just in case I ever need to look back.

One Response to “The good things will live in our hearts.”

  1. Elise March 24, 2009 at 8:12 am #

    You forgot to mention our encounter with “Pablo”. I love you baby Jilly. I hope there are some sisterly memories in there too.

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