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Time Capsules

"The most vast paradise we can lose ourselves in is that of time."

Confession: That's not a real quote. (But I suppose if someone says it, it becomes one....right?)

But it's true. This morning, I spent some time flashing back to the good old days of cinnamon applesauce and carrot sticks and string cheese and -- I'm hungry now. To the memories of playing with the stuffed white bear that still perches on my bed. I haven't said a word to Buttercup in...weeks? Months? Perhaps even years.

I flash back all the time, and most of us do. We hold onto grudges, childhood friendships (See BFFs. Love, a Cynic), the homes we grew up in. We clutch these memories to our hearts when we long for something to reassure us, something to reminisce about.

I wonder about time capsules. About whether they exist--tangibly--or whether their existence is founded upon the intangible. Would they mean anything if we didn't remember the value of everything we put in?

When I was thirteen, I filled a manila envelope with my childhood (or what I thought meaningful). And then I waited.

But when I opened it again, a year later, the memories were reduced to objects. To nothing. With no semblance of the meaning I had given it so long ago.

And so, I wonder: if the intangible value fades...what becomes of the objects? What becomes of the past?

Sam




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