I remember scrambling across the floor in a game of hide-and-seek at my grandma’s house when I found a small wooden box cloaked in a graying wig. I asked what was in the chest, and the answer I received was something I couldn’t fully understand as a five-year-old. I peered into the box and saw an assortment of other wigs, bandanas and scarves. My grandma told me she wore these things because she didn’t have hair. I didn’t understand. She told me that she lost her hair because of a sickness called cancer.

I remember walking out of the eye doctor’s office in fourth grade while wearing my first pair of glasses and being shocked to see each leaf on the trees around me. I could see a robin circling North Twin Lake. The radio in my dad’s truck was crystal clear even when I was more than a foot away from the words passing the screen. I was mesmerized by everything around me that was no longer a blur. I boasted my new perfect sight to my dad, who simply chuckled.

I remember shaking as the other members of my section were forced to leave the band room for dancing. I didn’t know what to do. Ms. Johns strode towards me, and I started to panic. As my intimidating band director approached me, I realized that she was coming to play the snare drum alongside me. She counted down for the 6th grade band to begin playing, and I rushed to make sure that I didn’t get lost. Why did those two boys have to get kicked out?

I remember sitting in the passenger seat of my mom’s van talking to my older sister on the phone when our car jerked forward. I heard the whack of the phone flying into the dashboard, and my head snapped forward only to be whipped back. When we came to a stop, I reached to pick up the phone that was on the floor and immediately handed it to my mom. I didn’t realize what happened, and I felt numb to most of my surroundings. The panic in me had subsided after a few seconds. My mom explained the situation to my frightened older sister. I saw my mom go talk to the driver of the tiny car who rear-ended us, and I moved to the backseat to allow frightened girl to sit in my spot. She couldn’t breathe very well. I could see a bone in her hand trying desperately to penetrate through the skin into the air. Then, I felt the pain in my head and neck. I saw red and blue lights followed by the sound of distant sirens.

I remember clutching the hand of one of my best friends as I stood surrounded by my Conduct of Meetings team on the stage being blinded by the lights illuminating us. We were all anxious about the results of our competition. The fourth and third places were announced as two of the other teams standing next to us stepped forward reluctantly. My grip tightened on my friend’s hand. My fingernails dug into my palm almost hard enough to break skin. Second place. My breath caught in my throat. I almost screamed when out town name wasn’t spoken. We won the state competition and were eligible to compete at the National Convention in October! We received a plaque recognizing the seven of us as champions, and we all beamed when a photographer came to take our picture. My smile was as wide as the ocean and as bright as the sun.
I remember spending the entire summer before high school questioning if the boy I had a crush on liked me. The butterflies in my stomach appeared whenever he talked to me. The answer to my thoughts and soothing of anxious butterflies came when he asked me to the homecoming dance. I spent the entire night wondering if he was ever going to ask me to dance, or even just to talk to me. I didn’t dance with any of my friends like I wanted to because I didn’t want to have fun without him. My thoughts, dominated by my feelings, were only focused on him. The dwelling point that kept being brought to my attention was that I should have been with my friends. The logical brain in my head should have ruled over the floating heart in my chest.
I remember driving my car with three of my best friends when I made the grave mistake of pulling into the intersection after a stop light. I heard Hannah Bottofson scream in my ear one simple word, “Lucy!” Startled by the staggering force with which she yelled, I followed her out-stretched finger pointing to my left. A truck twice the size of my car came barreling towards us. Darkness washes over my vision. The sound that woke me up was my friends yelling for us to get out of the car. I clambered into the backseat because the front bumper of the truck was mere inches from my door. I almost collapsed before I was fully out of the car, stumbled to the side of the road before I was finally convinced to sit on the ground. The only thing I felt was the pounding headache behind my temples as if someone was using my head to play human whack-a-mole. A strange man held my head and neck steady to prevent further damage. My vision floated in and out of focus.

I remember standing at a table with Hannah Elmer after passing through the Culver’s line that was giving free custard to all FFA members at the National Convention. Being in a wheelchair, Hannah was given four dishes of custard. I took one for myself, even though my friend made me take another one of hers. When we both finished our first two dishes, we decided that the best option for the final dish was to split it. We finished the fifth dish so quickly I almost didn’t remember we ate it at all. I could taste the vanilla long after the ice cream was gone, and Hannah and I shared a look simply that said, “What have we done?”

I remember discovering how I felt about a mutual friend. We met through a school group, and I didn’t know what he was like until years after we met. He was no longer a stranger, but more of a friend. He spoke to me without someone else initiating the conversation. He would smile at me in the hallway when we would pass each other, and my heart would flutter. We began chatting almost every day in the one class we shared together, and we complained about how hard the class was for us. I suddenly and unexpectedly realized that I didn’t just think of him like a friend, but as something more. Shocked, I didn’t know if this was a good or a bad thing.
Ben Affleck once voiced, “Memories, all those little experiences make up the fabric of our lives and on balance, I wouldn’t want to erase any of them, tempting though it may be.” This is something I take with me wherever I go. No matter how bad a memory might seem, the ones I have turned me into the person I am today. I can be myself and continue to live life on the path these memories have placed me on. These precious moments make me who I am.