Not Forgetting

Last night I packed up letters, sweet notes, coloring book pictures, photographs, two deflated balloons, 3 home-made pins, Valentines, and an armful of Hello Kitty items into a Tupperware box.  The container is currently residing under my bed, and that's probably where it will stay for the next little while.  Every item inside triggers a daisy chain of memories in my heart.  It's hard to believe that it's already been a month since I packed up my life as an RA and a student and moved back home.  As I left my tiny Juniper room, I didn't have the time to go through each memory and make sure they were all adequately preserved in my heart.  And, as I peeled them off of the walls, fished them out of drawers, and uncovered them beneath homework assignments, the room that was once filled to the brim with love and happiness went back to the way I found it: white, empty, and filled with promise.  

I feel as if an immeasurable amount of blessings were poured upon me in the last year.  It has taken taking a step back to fully understand everything I accomplished, learned, felt, and experienced-- it's overwhelming.  A year ago, I never could have dreamed of what I would experience in my new adventure.  I had sketchy ideas and fuzzy, blurry notions of what my floor and my life would be like, yet not even coloring and adjusting these ideas created the bright life that I had.  Even if there would have been a way for me to take a glimpse into that future, I wouldn't have seen exactly what I would have.  Like everything in life that we love and want to hold on to, it had to end and I had to let go.  I had to stuff those memories in a box and put them away-- it's time to move on now.  It's time to get ready for a new RA adventure, a final year of college, and a summer filled with more opportunities to make memories.  I'm not forgetting, no, I'm just letting those memories simmer until their fragrance and potential overwhelms me again.  They're begging to be something more-- it's just not their time.