Memory Box

I was cleaning my room the day I came across a familiar shoe-box painted in a light shade of blue with rhinestones and colored yarn glued to it. I was about to dump it into the trash pile, but curiosity got the best of me and I looked inside. It was stuffed with letters from friends, pictures I made in third grade and papers with A's and "great job" stickers on it. As I dig deeper down, I find buttons, stickers, seashells and other strange collections of mine. I chuckle as I pick up a chewed up lisa frank pencil topped with a barbie head.

At other times, all these things would've seemed so insignificant to me. I used to treasure everything; every memory was golden. All of a sudden, I stopped caring. All my A's would go to the trash along with my B's, C's, D's and F's. I dug through the old letters and read through the events which were so called 'important' at age 13. A letter to Marla about how Eric asked me for a pen. A forwarded note to Alyssa and Nadia asking about first kisses and what kind. Chewed pencils, a broken play-doh man, fake jewlery, raffle tickets and chain letters were all a part of my life again.
It was like a mini-journey to my past ;a present version of the time machine.
As I close my memory box...the memories seem to fade once again.