Treasured Trash

  Everyone knows the saying that someone's trash is another man's treasure. I have a full box of another man's "trash" but it is in fact treasure to me.

   The box that holds them, laying in dust under my dresser, is the kind of box one would expect to find treasures in. Pale green, with a silver, metal clasp on it. Very pretty, very simple. It's the kind of box I love to open, because I would want to know what was inside. It's the kind the kind of box that needs you to put something special in it.

  So what, you must be wondering (or not) is in this box, that means so much to me? Memories fill it. Have you ever noticed how you're most precious memories, the most treasured things you have, are the things that least matter to anyone else? Your memories are rarely appreciated by a stranger, as the would appreciate money, or food, but yet my memories are really more important than all the money in the world. They are even more important than, dare I say it, than chocolate sweets. I had to say it, I dared myself.

  One memory is represented by a heart shaped, metal hair clip, its red sparkly covering now chipping. It was given to me by a boy I never meant. He was my brother's pen pal, he lived in another country, Kazakhstan, and he sent me the clip, telling my brother that I was beautiful, although he had never seen me, nor I him. The memory is so precious to me, and to you it may amuse for two minutes, it may touch your heart for three, but you will forget soon, because it is my treasure, but it is not yours.

  Another memory is represented by an ugly little doll, who I once thought to be beautiful, with purple hair, and huge eyes of the same color. She was my favorite toy when I was young, if she was not in my hand she was sitting on my dresser, watching over me in the way only a toy could. This little toy is a reminder of my sweet, and quickly fleeting childhood.

  My box of treasure has many other things as well, postcards, from a family vacation; a yellow bracelet, made by my favorite soccer coach; a candy wrapper, from missionaries who went to Israel; all these things, these memories, are my "other man's trash," but some of my deepest treasures.