The Central Trend

My past is held in a box

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My past is held in a box

A lime green shoebox is perched on a rack in my cramped closet. “Kelly & Katie” is printed on the black-and-white spotted lid in neat letters. The ballet flats that were once inside are long gone, but it’s not empty. It now overflows with cards, pictures, and old transportation tickets.

This is my ever-growing treasure: my memory box.

It holds some of my most cherished memories and objects from all seventeen years of my life. It is almost like a timeline of only pleasant reminders.

One of my favorite things housed inside is a pumpkin orange get well card. The monster driving a race car and cheesy joke inside make me giggle. The part that truly puts a smile on my face, however, is my little brother’s squiggly handwriting spelling out, “I love you.” That was the first time he gave me a card for something as little as a broken pinkie.

I turn towards the box whenever I am feeling gloomy or nostalgic. The moment I lift the lid, bright colors of my past explode from within and fill me with joy.

It may be meaningful today, but it wasn’t when I first started using it. In middle school, the shoebox was nothing more than storage. I did not have enough space on my walls for more pictures, and I did not have enough room in my desk drawers for more cards.

Even though I kept those things, I was not a sentimental person. I just didn’t want to make anyone feel bad by throwing them away.

However, that changed once I entered high school. As I spread my wings and flew, I experienced many things I never dreamed were possible. I learned that many of these experiences are once in a lifetime opportunities, and I hoped to never forget them.

Now, the fear of forgetting diffuses throughout my body as time passes. My mind slowly fills with more memories to hold onto. Scared of losing such precious moments, I sealed them in the shoe box and hid it away from prying eyes.

My past is held in a box like a rare bird in a cage.

While the hands of my age clock move forward, more memories will be made, and experiences will pass. I will keep adding to my memory box until I no longer can. I will expand my shoe box into multiple boxes. I am so excited to see what else will be contained in my ever-growing treasure.

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About the Writer
Alissa Minard, Staff Writer

Alissa Minard is a senior and entering her first year on staff of The Central Trend. She is a dancer at Michigan Ballet Academy. Having lived only in...

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My past is held in a box