Faded pictures...

My mom wants to “redo” my old room in the house she and my dad still live in, the house I grew up in. I don’t blame her; the wallpaper is almost 30 years old now and may just fall off the walls one of these days of its own accord. Plus, some of the decorations on the walls have been up since I was in high school (and I don’t even want to THINK ABOUT how long ago THAT was). So I started cleaning it out today and naturally, going through the remnants of my keepsakes, memories flooded me. Among the things I came across:

A T-shirt from a “Graffiti Party” that various friends had written on, telling the story of one of the first nights of my senior year in college

A collage of one-liners and flattering adjective surrounding a picture of me and a girl with whom I am no longer friends

Countless letters from my mom, friends, and other relatives

Even more letters from my dad (who is famous for his long, beautiful letters)



A pinwheel that was part of a friend’s Halloween costume. It was left (intentionally?) in my room after the festivities as a reminder of one of the most magical Halloweens I’ve ever had, also during my senior year in college… a night that made me feel like a freshman again: pure, pretty, and problem-free…

The funeral program from my dear friend’s death later that year

A coin from Chuck E Cheese where I was taken by friends to try to cheer me up after my friend’s death

A pebble from the shrine my friend’s mom constructed in her memory outside of their home

All the letters from friends and family after my nervous breakdown and short hospital stay that summer… few of which mentioned my nervous breakdown, which always puzzled me… if I wasn’t embarrassed to talk about it, why should they be?

An E.T. doll that I had received shortly after the movie was released (it was then and still is my favorite movie). Sadly, the doll did not stand the test of time quite as well as the movie, it’s leather skin eaten away and gross… My mom looked sad when I threw it away. “But it’s not the REAL E.T.,” I thought, “HE went home!”

Countless plays I started and abandoned, others by friends, others by playwrights I studied in school

And a loneliness… a sense of sadness… a sense of loss of time, of friends, of youth…

I know I’m not old, but I sure ain’t as young as I used to be…

Or as stupid.

That thought makes me laugh and suddenly the sadness lifts. What I have now I would not trade for those carefree days. What I learned from that dumb 18 year old girl (and 19, and 20, and so on,) has made me who I am today.

And today… I feel o.k.