My memory jars perch in my mind, each home to the beauty I find in life, and the moments that have shaped the fabric of my fourteen years so far. The memories swirl within them, weaving together to form the person I am today.
Jar #1: 8 years old
The frigid air snapped at my pink-tinged cheeks, a spray of crystalized water and ice crystals leaping before me only to settle down on the icy slope. As I readjusted my skis to look out at the harmonious and staggering sight before me, my ragged breath caught in my throat and I quietly gasped in chilled air. Even in the crux of December, the emerald and turquoise waves lapped gently against buoys, the wind coaxing ripples into the otherwise undisturbed lake. Despite being miles away, the lake’s presence filled the horizon, dozens of skiers sliding to a halt to absorb the beauty of Lake Tahoe.
Jar #14: 12 years old
Fourth of July week was made of hazy flashes, of fireworks and ice cream, sand castles, and car rides with the windows down. Spending a week in Saugatuck each year was an undisturbed sanctuary of carefree feelings and sun. My day was spent swimming and tanning, with the dusk of night falling to house the variegated fireworks that decorated the midnight sky. The haze of summer nights was untouchable and nothing could compare to luminescent lightning bugs circling the street. The beauty of the night mimicked the sun setting above us, casting my summer in a glow of oranges and pinks.
Jar #15: 13 years old
Halloween has been a venerated holiday for me since I was a toddler. It was a night filled with too many Reese’s and itchy costumes. This year though, I passed out candy to trick or treaters, small children timidly approaching our spider-webbed and UV-lighted house. Their faces lit up as each received a few pieces of candy dropped into their pillowcase, and the nostalgia was almost tangible as I remembered just a few years ago being that beaming child elated to have received a Starburst. Halloween is always over before I’m ready for it to end; my candy stockpile trickling away, all thoughts turning to Thanksgiving and Christmas.
Jar #20: 14 years old
My takeout didn’t taste as good with tears trickling down my cheeks and into my plate resting in my lap. My quiet sobs echoed throughout the barren house, walls and floors alike adorned with only dust and old memories, small nicks and scratches in the hardwood. I irrationally walked loops in the house, drifting from room to room, remembering each element of the place I would leave behind in less than twelve hours. My entire lifetime was spent here, only to end up crying in an empty home that soon would be just another house.
These are moments, both joyful and despondent, that will live in my memory forever. As time passes me by, my memory jars will have new additions and my childhood cannot quite be summed up in a few eternal memories, yet these perfectly preserved memories will always be the most important to me.
