Things that Last

To my mind at the time, permanence was both a given and a foreign concept depending on the context. Some things around me like my house, school, and yard seemed to be perpetual. Most of my possessions on the other hand were seemingly transient. Clothes no sooner fit than were too small; some toys just weren’t as fun to play with as they were in the past. Then, I got my backpack. It was a nice one; with two cavities to keep my books separate, padded so my shoulders wouldn’t get sore, and even had a water bottle holder. Oh, and it cost more than I realized you could spend on just about anything. This was something I’d have to take care of.

Since then my backpack has traveled a lot of miles, though a few less than it’s owner. It’s been on beautiful mountain hikes, climbed the Eiffel Tower, and of course attended classes. It’s survived the ravenous jaws of middle school lockers, treacherous northern Michigan winter walks to school, and been unceremoniously crammed into the back of various vehicles for the long treks home from college. Still, apart from losing a couple of the frilly bits on the zipper pulls, it’s always ready when I need it.

Memories on a Run

My run today took me past a place long familiar; a place where my cousin and I once climbed vast jungle gyms and scaled giant concrete pipes. Memories of building block towers and scavenger hunts abound there. The lawn is overgrown now, and the metal jungle gyms and concrete pipes have long ago been removed lest children be exposed to the hazard. In their place a plastic play set sits unused on its bed of recycled tires. Inside on the floor once strewn with blocks and other toys are scattered shards of broken glass, while vines make a steady, beautiful assault on the sidewalks and brick columns. As I ran by, I realized that my hometown is changing and so am I. My kindergarten is for sale, but my memories will remain.