to: emma. from: the boys who've loved you.

at home, in my bedroom, in an unorganized cabinet under my tv, there are several binders and boxes of memorabilia. the boxes contain mementos of my adolescence; efy lanyards, pass notes from high school, old pictures, party invitations and anything that holds sentimental value. a practical person would think i am crazy for wasting space and harboring all of these ridiculous items, but in that cabinet, lies the remnant pieces of the boys who have loved me. 

in this cabinet, i have the personal journal of a boy who loved me. for one year, this boy kept record of our adventures together, our triumphs, our lazy days bbqing by the pool, our disappointments, my senior prom, his eagle scout court of honor, our arguments over petty issues, our young love and our struggle to find ourselves during the chaotic time of high school. carefully stapled and perfectly printed in times new roman, this book is forever safe in the cabinet under my tv, in my bedroom, at home.

in this cabinet, i have numerous letters, left on my car while i was at work, from another boy who loved me. the fifth floor of the nordstrom parking lot knew him well, and i have saved every card and note he left. with every one of them, memories of us flood my mind. a deep dime-shaped scar below his left thumb, the warmth of his skin, a road trip involving a honey moon suite and my mother, an empty house close to the ocean, and the thrill of loving someone i wanted to fix. in the cabinet, on a poster board, i have our love story as written by him. a picture of the san clemente pier, the movie we saw on our first date, and a promise he will forever love me adorn this poster. and i will never forget that story, even as it remains beneath the cabinet, under my tv, in my bedroom, at home.

in this cabinet, i have three letters from a boy who loved me, who is serving the Lord far away. in these letters, in his typical fashion, he reminds me not to worry about him or any worldy thing, but to keep my life revolved around the Gospel and to be happy. this boy, who broke my heart last winter, is slowly putting it back together with small words of encouragement and support. these letters, along with the knowledge that i am in his prayers, is quietly kept in the cabinet, under my tv, in my bedroom, at home. 

in this cabinet, huge pieces of my past live. along with break up notes from high school flings, crafts made in young womens, printed out instant messenger conversations, wedding invitations, and myspace messages from boys i never gave a chance to, lies the memories of boys who have forever changed me.