While getting ready to go back to school and packing to move into my dorm, I realized I was missing a whole bunch of stuff I bought the previous year. Long story short, my mom and I ripped my room apart trying to locate this box. We found it eventually, but during this process, I realized that I am a huge pack rat. I found old papers and projects from elementary school, notes my friends and I passed in high school, and the list goes on and on. As I was going through these things, I realized why I am a pack rat though: the memories.

Let's get something straight. I do not hoard everything and hoard is such a strong word. I have just saved a lot of things that hold special memories to them. I do throw away and donate things that I realize I really do not need and that are just taking up space, but there are some things that I keep. While going through my desk I found a paper of mine from fifth grade and my teacher wrote me a note stating that my paper was well written and I should be proud of the work I accomplished. It made me smile and remember how long I spent doing research on that paper and trying my best to convey the information I needed to for the assignment. I kept this paper for so many years because of that one uplifting comment that sparked something inside me, that made me feel confident. I also came across a letter that my childhood best friend wrote me. It made me remember how close the two of us were and the friendship the two of us shared for almost ten years. The note was so bittersweet and yet after all of these years I kept it because it still makes me smile.

I have a hard time parting with things I have collected over the years because a part of me is so afraid that I will forget about those memories. A piece of me fears that if I do not hold onto a physical representation of that memory, that it will deteriorate and I do not want that to happen. Storage has become a bit of a problem for me and every once in awhile I have to go through all of the memories I have acquired and organize them and simplify. My piles become smaller, but I have come to realize that the memories do not.

Memories do not necessarily need something physical in order for them to resurface. However, I will still continue with my pack rat nature and collect all of the physical traces of memories that I can. It's become a habit and a hard one to break, too. Some people call of those letters, little notes, old papers, and tokens of friendship "stuff" or "junk," but they are so much more than that; they are my memories.