Memories

I have a large box in my spare bedroom filled with diaries and photo albums. The box is very heavy because I have diaries from when I was in second grade. Then, there are the photo albums my grandma made, the one of my pictures, my high school memory book project, and numerous small photo albums. Yesterday, I decided to go through the box and see if there was anything in the box that I didn’t need to keep. I am keeping my diaries even though they won’t mean anything to me. However, there were some things in the box that I felt was not worth keeping.

The first thing I decided to discard was my 4-H record book. I was involved in a very active group. We made tons of sewing and craft projects and volunteered in many community projects. And for every single thing we did, we had a picture that went into our record books. And since I started when I was in fifth grade, I accumulated a lot of pictures by senior year.

The pictures were not anything special so that is why I decided to get rid of the heavy book. While I was in the process of taking the book apart, I looked at all the pictures of me. The one thing I noticed was that I was not very attractive as a kid. I have never considered myself pretty but I never realized my looks were that bad. My parents kept my hair short. I looked decent if I had long hair. I also had a very strange sense of fashion and would wear things like blue patterned pants or pink sweatpants.

I kept very few of the pictures from 4-H. There were one or two that I kept because I had decent hair. A couple of others I kept because of the memories. Otherwise, it was quite nice destroying pictures where I looked absolutely horrible.

The next thing I discarded was a photo album my grandma made me. It was a book of all my school pictures from kindergarten to senior year. There were a few pictures from my graduation from high school as well as my college graduation program (I gave the commencement speech). The reason I did not like the book is because those pictures in the book were the ones that had once been hanging on my grandma’s wall. It upset me that she didn’t want the pictures. I know those are the only ones she had because she included both the picture frame ones as well as the miniatures. The thing is, my grandma knew I would not have wanted it in the first place. She gave the book to me at Thanksgiving with explicit instructions not to forget it. I did forget it though. I will write more about my grandma another time.

My box is slightly lighter than before and memories that I would rather not remember are gone.

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