My dad cleaned out the old storage shed last weekend. Items were either thrown away, put in a yardsale pile, or taken home to keep. One of the items in storage was my hope chest. We put it there when my mom and Dennis built their new house. Needless to say, I haven't seen most of the items in it since I moved away to college. But, tonight, as I was the only one awake past 10:30 pm, I chose to sift through the papers, books, letters, cards, photographs, trinkets, and postcards that I thought would mean something to me someday. I'm glad that I saved everything as a teenager, because it was a really needed experience for me to sort through memories of high school as I sit on the brink of finishing college.
As I read through cards and letters from people wishing me well and promising me a bright future, I couldn't help but get a little nostalgic for the life I had. So many people commented on how I was beginning to gain confidence and security in my talents; they stereotypically guaranteed me to be a fantastic college student. I wonder what some of them would say if they saw me now. If they knew-- even partially-- the ways I have changed in the past four years. But, in all of the nostalgia, wondering how people are now, and realizing how loved and blessed I was, I couldn't help but feel as if I had found these items at just the right moment. Even though they still mean something, and I will keep them all (most likely forever), I am so different now. That part of my life is over, and another part is quickly resolving as well. These memories showed me something incredible tonight: it is possible to fly. I've done it once before.
(Happy 70th, John Lennon.)
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