“Where is my blankie?” is a phrase you would often hear me say as a child. I was like a broken record, always worried I would lose my precious blanket. My parents often debated whether allowing me to grow attached to that thin piece of material was a good decision. I think that they wish now that they would have never given it to me. I had it with me when I slept, ate and even when I went to visit the doctor. It was my comfort then and still is today.

I still remember playing outside with it, with my little chocolate Lab pup tugging on the one end. I remember all the times I have tied it loosely around my neck and ran around like a superhero saving the day. I look at this blanket and see my childhood, but there is also dark memories that are resurrected with the good. Although it does occasionally remind me of the hard times growing up, whenever I become overwhelmed now, that tattered blanket on my bed that will always remind me that I have overcome more difficult troubles than the one present.

I know that it’s just a lousy blanket. It’s too thin to actually function as a blanket considering it’s full of rips and tears. Years of dragging it around with me wherever I went has faded away its once bright colors. All in all, it is very hard on the eyes, but when I close them, I realize how soft it actually is. When I hold it to my face, I can still smell my mother’s perfume she used to wear when I was younger. It reminds me of all the hard times that I have surpassed, as well as all the fun times I’ve had and will still have in the future. It’s crazy to think that this damaged blanket was at some point in time new. It had no rips, no tears, no memories, but what it did have was a price tag. Although, the 19 years that I have owned it are showing, it is now priceless.

This is why I save these “worthless” items. Although that may seem like trash to some, that's all of a story to me. Another hoarded memory is a tiny teddy bear I used to keep in my room. I must have been about 4 or 5 years old and had decided that leaving it on top of a lamp was a good idea. Long story short, it caught on fire and the once all white bear now has a black burnt behind. Trust me, I learned from that experience. Another is a blue collar and red leash that used to belong to my two chocolate Labs. The amount of times I’ve had to grab the collar of my crazy male pup, Buzz, to keep him from getting in trouble makes me smile whenever I hold it. The memories of the many walks I had force my female dog, Ginger, to tag along lies with the remains of the chewed-up leash from her wanting to turn around the sprint home.

I have a stone ornament that was made and written on by my father for his and my mother’s first Christmas together that I’m sure they don’t even know I have. My parents have been divorced for quite a few years now, but I have kept it all this time. Not because I miss them being together, or because I miss the way it was as a kid. I keep it to remember the many times we have placed that ornament on the tree. The many times my dad had put me on his shoulders to place the angel at the top of the tree. To remember all the other ornaments that had fallen and broke from Shelby and me crawling underneath the tree. The presents that I had began to peel back the wrapping the moment it was placed under the tree.

Some people take pictures, others work hard to forget their past. For me, my past made me the way I am today. I love, work hard and laugh harder and that’s something about myself that I never want to lose. You can call these items worthless, but I will consider them part of me.