Noun: a set of skills or tools used to create a publication
Let me make this very clear: I rock at math, and math is very much my friend. Hence, when my parents (separately) gave me a three-day deadline to move all of my stored stuff out of their house after graduation, I came up with a six-day deadline. You see, 3 + 3 = 6.
It didn’t fly. So I guess math and I aren’t friends anymore. But that’s okay, because I’ve taken the last few days (with many breaks throughout) to sort through said “stuff” that’s been piling up in my parents’ basement. It’s surprising what you save.
I think everyone (at least, in my group of friends) has their diploma and perhaps their high school graduation cap stored somewhere. Most of my friends might be able to dig up a few awards printed on cardstock, the ones we get at the end of the year. I know I have every single one I ever received in high school–because I just found them all.
You see, my parents instituted this thing called a “memory box” when I was very young, maybe about preschool or kindergarten. (I didn’t actually go to preschool, though.) Whenever there were significant achievements (awards, honors, talent show programs), it went into the box. Well, over the years, the box grew and now it weighs about 50 pounds (probably less, but it feels like 50 pounds when I try to move it).
Of course, now that I’m 21, I don’t even remember when or why I got some of this, but there are memories that I recall as I sort through old papers and report cards.
I have envelopes full of 4-H award ribbons, brownie badges from the brief time I was a Girl Scout (believe it or not), certificates and honors from bands and choirs, medals from my grade school sports teams (basketball and volleyball), and of course, academic awards. Each of them has a story. Some even have pictures to prove them.
To tell you the truth, I attempted to go through my memory box today. Attempted, because I couldn’t actually sort through and decide what to keep and what to toss. Maybe I’ll try again in another few years.
But I do have to get those memories out of my parents’ basement within three (but really, six) days of graduation.