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One of my favorite questions to ask people is, “What is your earliest memory?” I love hearing the responses. Sometimes people remember entire stories. Other times it’s simply an image or a scent or a taste. Whatever it may be, I feel that it always points to a truth about that person.
My earliest memory is a box--a red, plastic, heart-shaped box. I remember my Grampy handing it to me from behind the counter of the convenience store he and his family owned. I remember taking the box home and deciding what I’d keep in it. I put some of my trinkets inside it, but I knew that I wanted to keep something more special in there.
Later as I played outside in the autumn sun, I decided that I wanted to catch the sunshine. So I brought the box outside, held it above my head, and let the rays land inside the box. Then, I wanted to catch the breeze. Once again, I held the box above my head. When a gentle gust swept by, I caught it and snapped the box shut. I repeated this process with everything that I loved about that afternoon.
That night, when I was supposed to be asleep, I decided to open the box and feel the soft breeze and the warm rays against my face. But when I opened the box, to my surprise, nothing happened. That was the first time I realized that I could not preserve intangible things.
As I grew older, I started to learn that there were ways that I could preserve those intangibles. Of all the ways, writing was my favorite. By the age of five I was already jotting down recipes, imagining stories, and writing a diary. Despite the other ways I’ve changed over the years, that is one thing that has never changed. I’ve always felt the need to capture what’s around me. And that’s what I want this blog to be--a place to capture my favorite things and share them with others. A heart-shaped blog.