Memory Lane

July 4, 2009
By Anonymous

It seems like all too soon, I'm leaving home. No, I'm not running away. I'm going to collage. It seems like just yesterday I was messing around, playing flashlight tag at the park up the street, with all my very best friends. And it seems like yesterday, I found my first love whom I still love, and is coming with me to the same collage. And it seems like yesterday when I got the letter that said I got into the University of Michigan. Oh, wait that was yesterday.
Today, is officially a month before I leave. My mom asked me to clean out an old storage closet of hers, to see if there was anything useful enough to take with me. It will be quite a difficult task, everything is in there. Although, I'm not quite sure what everything is.

I begin to make my way into the room. Theres not much walking space, but I manage to get to the back. I open a huge plastic box, to find a bunch of clothes that seem to have shunk greatly. But I take out an eensy shirt and figure out, these are baby clothes! MY baby clothes! I'm eighteen years old, and I can't remember a time I was small enough to fit into these things. But, for some reason, it touches me that my mother would keep these things for so long. I almost tear up, because that mother who kept all these things, cant't remember who's they were, or why she kept them. Some days she hardly remembers who I am.

I put the lid back on the box and reach for another. Its made of card board, and when I open it, dust floats into the small room. AHHHH-CHOOO! I peer inside the box, and see its filled to the top with my childhood stuffed animals. I let out an, "Oh!" as I see my very favoite one, who I named Peachy. I remember the day I got her. I was coming back from my yearly trip to the doctors, and I had had to have two shots in my arm. I was only 5 so this was some of the worst pain I had endured. I was still a bit snuffley as my mom pulled into a store. We walked inside and I remember clearly what my mother said, "You can pick one thing, darling, for being such a brave girl, getting your shots." I squealed with delight and raced around the shop, untill I found a giant stuffed dog, almost as big as me. I gasped and grabbed him from the shelf. I ran and said to my mother, "His name is Peachy!" This time, I do cry. I remember that just that night my parents told me about their...problems. They were splitting up. I didn't know what they ment. I asked, "Daddy's gonna live away from me?

I was still holding Peachy, remembering, when my cell phone rang. I quickly tryed to stop my sniffing and the tears running my light make-up. "Hello? No, no I can't... I'm helping my mom with...look I'll call you later. Bye" That was my annoying ex-boss. I quit working for him yesterday and he's called me at least 5 time. Apparently, he doesn't see why I have to go to collage, to get a real job. My dad. Yes, he always wanted better for me. Always wanted me to get into that collage...

I put Peachy back in his box. I don't want to throw her out, maybe if I have a kid some day.....I move on to the next box. Its filled with books, my old favorites. Mostly from the time I was 10 to about 14 or 15. So, really not to long ago. There are no classics in this box. Nope, no Treasure Island or, Huckle Berry Finn or what ever. Mostly girly books and teen drama. I loved books, and still do, but the only ones that used to capture my attention were romantics and drama-filled novels. I remember, reading the same book over and over and over, beacuse I had nothing else to read. My boyfriend teased me all the time saying I was a nerd and a book-worm. And he still does.

There's another box, filled grandmothers old things. She came to live with us, three years ago. We didn't want her put in a depressing old nursing home. But, only a year later, she fainted. We rushed her to a hospital, it wasnt too late, we thought. She went into a coma, and she didn't live to come out of it.

As I think, something rolls down my face. I wipe it away quickly and realize it's only a tear. I remember my grandma so well. I loved her so much. She was the one who taught me to ride my bike, when my parents worked over time. And she was the one who took care of me when I had a raging fever. I sniffle, and shake the tears away. Maybe this is too much for me. Maybe I can't stand my own walk down Memory Lane

Similar Articles


This article has 0 comments.

Parkland Book