Letters to Memories

I love remembering and I love keeping things, and I keep things because I want to remember them. Everything is alive in one way or another, everything has a memory attached to it, even if only in a small way. I keep everything anyone ever gives me, no matter what happens. I will always remember. I know none of these people will ever see this, so I suppose this is just for me, in a way. Sometimes I wonder if some of these people even remember any of this anymore.

From D -- I still have the stone from that necklace you got me for my birthday years ago. The string has long since frayed and disappeared, but I sleep with the stone under my pillow, safe with a few other things from other people.

From L -- God, I kept everything. I still have the small plastic Snow White you gave me before you left. I still have every single post card and letter you ever wrote me after you left, the note that you wrote when we were no more than eight years old -- that I will never bring up to you again now -- planning our wedding and asking me to swear I'd never marry anyone else. I kept the lanyard from the day I finally saw you again, almost eleven years later, and we went to that random convention. It’s under my pillow with the others. I kept the 3D printed axolotl from that day too, and she sits carefully on my nightstand. 

From O -- I don’t think I’ve seen you in ten years now, but I still have the smiley face drawing you made on the whiteboard in my bedroom at our last sleepover. It used to be inside of a tree drawing I made, which is gone now -- but I made sure your drawing stayed.

From Z -- I still have the tiny christmas ornament you made for me in the third grade right before you moved away, “Zoe 2015” painted on it in wobbly puffy paint letters. We still put it up on the family christmas tree every single year.

From A, M, T, M -- We were only seven years old when I moved halfway across the entire world. I still have the drawing you all made for me of the five of us hanging out with the town’s stray cat, folded carefully in a folder in my desk. I miss you all. Sometimes I still wonder if any of you even remember me anymore.

From V -- Where to even begin with this. I still have all of it. That stupid sweater I wore the time we spent all day at the mall, the stains still on the sleeve from spilling our starbucks drink all over it. All of our jewelry – my “In Crime” half of our “Partners in Crime” necklaces (broken in three places now, kept safely in a small drawer on my desk). The charm from our yin and yang necklaces. My teal space themed bracelet that matched your purple one. Every single note, scrap of paper, notebook, school planner that you ever wrote anything in – I kept it all. All of our texts and photos taking up so much space on my phone, but I’ll never delete any of it. Small Bear, the bear you got me for valentine’s day almost six years ago now. All the doodles you sent me, only really a few months ago. Everything and anything I can find, I cling to desperately. Because I think this time, this really will be the end for real. I think I’ll still miss this forever.

I think that there are obvious enough reasons that I cling to memories like this for as long as possible. Most of them will probably outlive even me, at this point. I hope that they do. I also think that this is part of the reason why I ever write anything at all -- to leave something of it all behind. To leave behind record of who I was, all of these memories that mean nothing to someone who doesn’t know, but have always meant everything in the world to me. I want to remember everything I possibly can, but I think -- as an extension of that -- I want to be remembered, too.