Track and field medals, temporary license, concert wristbands, flash drives with pictures, yearbooks, baby pictures, and so much more. All of these seemingly unrelated and unimportant things are in this one plastic box in my closet. My memory box. If there is one thing I could not live without, it would be that box. 

A frog painted purple with green feet. That frog is in my memory box and holds more memory than one might think. The sun was shining down on us, drying our bodies from the pool as we debated what we wanted to do next. Eventually, we decided that we wanted to go paint some pottery at the stand we saw when we arrived at the resort the day before. We had to pick out the ceramic piece that we wanted to paint. I was stuck between the frog and the dolphin. After a lot of internal debate my choice was the frog. I painted it an almost neon purple with forest green feet. The frog inside my memory box reminds me of my family trip to Mexico where we celebrated my grandpa's birthday. 

One of my most recent memories in that box is flying to Saint Louis, Missouri with my grandma, twin sister, and our best friend on Saturday morning knowing an exciting night was ahead of us. We got to our hotel and tried on our plethora of outfits we brought with us. “Which top looks better, the black one or the brown one?” “Should I wear the hat or not?” “Are my feet going to hurt if I wear the boots?” “Yes, but you have to wear them.” These questions were flying throughout the room as we spent hours trying to determine what outfit was perfect. We did our hair, makeup, got dressed, and took a picture before we were off. Morgan Wallen here we come! We made our way down the field and got as close to the stage as possible knowing we would be in these spots until Morgan came on 4 hours later. It began to feel like we had been there for years until we heard his first song begin to play. Here he comes…only a couple more seconds…suddenly the stadium erupted with cheers as he was finally front and center on the stage only 50 feet away. The time flew by as I bolted out song after song on the set list until eventually the night came to an end. It was totally worth the sore feet I had for weeks. That memory is encapsulated all in one wristband that is sitting at the top of my memory box.   

The seventeen years of my life are represented in that box through pictures, books, clothes, and more. Every item having a memory attached to it that helped to shape me into the person I am. If there is one thing I simply could not live without it would be the plastic memory box in my closet.