The story of us, part 1

Up in the back bedroom in my moms house there is a huge walk-in closet filled with my sister's clothes, my vintage typewriter, tons of shoes, a bookshelf and 3 large avon delivery boxes.

Inside those boxes are the sparking gems of childhood. Every wonderful thing my brother, sister and I ever made when we were little. The contents of those boxes have changed over the years, we pruned and purged things as we were growing up, carefully curating our childhood with only the best of the best. Journals, projects, papers, photos, drawings, school projects, momentos. Every few years mom will ask us if we want to save them, we always answer YES. It may be a little selfish to keep boxes of stuff we hardly ever look at, taking up valuable storage space, but those boxes are so much more than a bunch of stuff.

They are the monarch butterfly life cycle projects that taught us how to look at the world with wonder. To marvel at nature and the amazing things that happen without any human help at all.

They are the books we wrote in second grade writers workshop, that taught us how to take the vastness of our imaginations and share it with others. To use words to describe our hopes and dreams to the world, and ourselves.

They are the baggies of streamers and ticket stubs saved to remind us of the dances, concerts and plays. Social milestones that helped to shape our ideas of love, friendship and sometimes heartbreak.

My mom was a very clever lady, she knew the vast amount of total junk every kid creates. She understood that not every A+ spelling test from 3rd to 7th grade could be saved. These boxes were a stroke of pure genius. Each of us only got one box, and the cover had to fit on. We knew we had to be careful with our choices of what to keep and what to throw away. We had to choose our moments carefully.

Thank you mom, for always teaching us to look for the best in things and to see the extraordinary in the mundane.