Ahhh...Memories (Hold tight, this one's longer!)

I think that today I've finally realized that time's not gonna wait for me to get ready to become a year older or a grade higher. Time's just gonna keep on going and, eventually, leave me in the dust. I need to be able to move on, and not get stuck reminiscing. I will have to get rid of old items which I used to defend by stating that "they bring back memories". Items can't store my memories for me, I do.



This came to me today when my mom told me to look through my closet and find things to give away. Things were going great, and I found a fair amount of unwanted clothes, until I got to my pajama drawer. As soon as I started looking through and pulling everything out to get a closer look, I found that most of the stuff in there had a great sentimental value to me.



I bunched the pajama drawer's contents into a giant wad and held them in my arms as memories flooded my mind. Memories that I hadn't thought about for months, some even for years. I was living at my Grandma and Babajoon's house with them, my mom, and my papa. Then I was at Round Meadow, then my current house (with my mom). Sierra Canyon Day Camp in the summer, Astro Camp in 6th grade.

When reality interrupted my memories, I began to think about the important things at my papa's house. My plastic crate flooded with toy weapons: The clear plastic colt revolver with the yellow barrel and the Scotch tape around the blue handle belonging to my cousin John; the hard black and wood-patterned plastic colt revolver missing the hammer also belonging to John; the hollow axehead that split in two when it hit the diving board while John and I were slicing zombies in play; the flimsy scimitar that damaged the spineless cactus we call "Lumpy"; the previously neon-orange toy resembling a Glock 17 that John admitted to stupidly coloring black with a Sharpie for Halloween and being accused of carrying a gun; the clear orange-tinted gun belonging to John engraved with "Machine gun" (Pistol), which it is clearly not, with duct tape wrapped around the barrel; the sword (now a small ax) whose blade was beaten off in another incident at the diving board; the Nerf Rapid Fire Machine guns that John's older brother Chris would shoot simultaneously at the two of us while we hid behind the couches in the den; the Star Wars gun (that I can't identify as being in any of the movies) that John and I dropped in the pool multiple times, for each time the sound would turn on and then off and vice versa; the small fluorescent green pistol that I would carry I my pocket wherever I went, should John yell "zombies!". Last but definitely not least, the Medieval Weapon Art catalogs that I shared with Emma and Cynthia in our games.

Those memories are just a few that lace my mom's and my papa's houses. They all mean much more to me than most of you could imagine. Thanks for reading this whole thing. And here we go again...

What Bugs Me: Time's going too fast for me! Slow down!!