Today I tackled the basement boxes. It has been on my list of things to do for a while, but I've been avoiding it. They were mostly boxes that get moved from place to place, but never unpacked. They hold memories and snapshots of various times in my life. And while their contents have no value, they are priceless in defining the journey I've made to become me. These are boxes that for months now I've been telling myself I need to sort because I just don't want to have to move them again next summer should we find ourselves matching to an out of state residency program.
Generally, I do a good job of not hoarding too much stuff. However, I am a sentimental gal and over the years I've kept my fair share of memorabilia. For example, today I finally recycled four years worth of college papers that I'd written and saved. I also ceremoniously rid myself of that dreadful final letter from my drawing professor freshman year who told me "your attitude, attendance and work ethic are second to none but your skill is lacking and that certainly has factored into your grade." I came across a few sentimental letters I'd received from great friends over the years and some odd trinkets I'd never quite known what to do with but felt attached to and couldn't get myself to toss.
It was one of those mixed up days where I wasn't quite sure how to feel. On one hand, I only look at this stuff every few years at most. On the other hand, many items in those boxes represent me and who I am today. Some items encouraged me at important times in my life. Other items were the byproduct of the hard work and knowledge I'd gained throughout my courses in school. Some, like the letter from my all too honest art professor, represent the challenges I've had. It was simultaneously cathartic and painful to sort through those boxes today, and tonight I am admittedly a little wiped out. However, I am thankful to have another thing crossed off my to do list.
In honor of the sorting I thought I'd share with you a piece I wrote in my ninth grade health class (yes, the contents of the boxes went back more than ten years). The assignment we had was to create something that represented us. As my college art professor solidified for me many years later, art wasn't my thing and I chose to write something instead. I modeled my piece after a poem I had identified with that had been written by another missionary kid. It was interesting to read through this again and think about who I was then, who I am now and who I am still becoming. Without further ado here it is...
What most don't know...
What most don't know as they go walking by is that on the outside I look like everyone else, but inside there is so much more. I have my own ideas and feelings. I have highs and lows. I have likes and dislikes. I have good days and bad days. I have my own fears and dreams. I have my own goals to make and my own obstacles to overcome. I have a past behind me and a future ahead of me.
What most don't know is that I'm 15 years old, and I hate to drive. I went to a French school in kindergarten. I love gymnastics. I used to help my friends take care of their ring tailed lemurs. I hate snow, cold weather and seeing my breath. I love the sun, warm weather and Christmas on the beach.
What most don't know is that my favorite baby-sitter and I used to play the game SORRY in two different languages without understanding each other in either language. Most of my friends come from different places around the world. I am fluent in Norwegian. I had to teach myself to read in English. I am the oldest sister of two younger brothers.
What most don't know is that my favorite game when I was little was school, but I am the one who dreads going back to school the most. I don't want to give up being a little kid, but I can't wait to grow up. I am never wrong. I could crawl out of my crib, stroller and car seat by the age of one. I love to tease and hate being teased.
What most don't know is that I love tomatoes. I can not sleep on airplanes or in the car. The first language I learned to read and write in was French. I was the little kid who thought they served rice at McDonald's. I grew up in a country that had one brand of cereal. I went to a Norwegian School in fourth and fifth grade.
What most don't know is that when I was two I had to travel halfway around the world to see my grandparents for the very first time. I always want to be somewhere I'm not. The friends who understand me best I use a paper and pen or e-mail to talk to. I have no idea what to be when I grow up. I am a diver on the High School Swim Team. I love to sing. My favorite songs are still from Sunday school.
What most don't know as they go walking by is that I might look like everyone else, but I am not. No, I am myself. I can't be anyone else, and no one can be me.
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