when i was around 11, there was a flood in our house, lots of the things from my childhood were lost, papers, pictures, clothes. in talking with my mother, i once asked her what she valued the most from then and she said w/o a seconds hesitation, the pan that i warmed my babies bottles in, it holds such memories. i can remember the smell of my grandmothers' house on sunday dinner(turkey and cauliflower and mashed potatoes) the hostas dancing under the stream of water from the hose, feeling so secure when my father carried me in from the car when i was little and sleepy, curling around my sister when the winter wind would hit the bedroom window, seeing my parents clearly for the first time when i got my glasses, throwing my arms around my mom after my first communion and saying loudly for all to hear, it tastes like cardboard, watching my little brother stand up to a bully. and the feeling of the key in my hand as i unlocked the door of my house with my two dogs standing on the porch with me for the first time last year. all those memories and the thousands more that make up my past, those things i cherish.