I believe that memories are important. Each memory we hold carries with it a lesson.
Going through my storage room I tried to pick a few objects of interest to write about. As I stepped over boxes, fallen books, and my dog Elmo rummaging around at my feet, I picked…all of it. I keep bits and pieces of my entire life, all perspectives of it, in my little room.
I have every stuffed animal from my childhood and most of my sisters as well. Past boyfriends, my Mother, and roommates have all tried to get me to part with them. For me, their eyes, though they may be plastic, plead to stay in the space I have created for them. They taught me to love.
Most of the books that had adorned the shelves of my bedroom when I was growing up now are stacked in this room. My world map sits on the wall marked with pins of different colors. Places I dream to see all poked through with the color orange. With these items I grew.
Photos and mementos of friends that have passed sit together in one area. Once a group of six close buddies, I now sit alone with their faces and recall each of them. Lost in accidents and addictions I am the only one left. They taught me to value life.
My dog was at my feet the entire time I searched for thoughts. He loves me even after I have worked all day and come home too tired to go for a long walk. When each of these items and people were in my life they filled me with the feelings I have for Elmo at this moment. He reminds me that memories are significant.
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