Memory Box

Do you have a box that was once used for shoes or something else, but now contains things dear to you? It is filled with birthday cards, movie and concert ticket stubs, pictures, love notes from former lovers. Does it make you cry when you open it? Do you smile? Do you laugh? Or, are you like me and you do all of the above...

They are our memories: the ones that hurt, the fond, and the funny. They are the letters that form words, the pictures that make sentences, the notes that bring meaning: they are, in essence, the story of our lives.

But what of the memories that are recorded only in the metaphysical? The ones trapped forever in the hazy cage of our minds. I fear that one day I will forget these: that time will slowly wash them way, such as the waves that endlessly eat away the beaches.

I must, however, take the time to share with you a story, already written, published, and bought by many and given to others...

This story that was given to me was simple in its words but genius nonetheless. "The Giving Tree": simple, short, genius, in all good meanings of those words. It is, however, lacking two: thank you. The boy in the story may, at the beginning, be forgiven by his youth for his lack of thankfulness, but, it is said, age brings wisdom, which should most certainly bring with it the knowledge of when to say those two words.

I have had the privilege of of having many giving trees over the past years. Most were simple actions: directions to a classroom, a car ride to the grocery store, a shoulder to cry on, praise for a good grade, company when I was lonely, advice for when I was confused. I was younger then, so please forgive me for my lack of thanks.

I must, therefore, take the time to express such thanks, before my memory gives out or distance allows me to forget. Furthermore, having been caught in books of philosophy, history, and law, I forgot the power that only two words may have. Four years, though relatively short, brought wisdom. And so, before my metaphysical memory box is overloaded or emptied allow me to say, shortly and simply those two genius words:

Thank you: for lending me a branch to climb on, an apple to eat, shade to to keep me cool, and wood to build a house...

Thank you all, for giving me all that you have.

I also want to share a favorite quote of mine.

"Life isn't about finding yourself, life is about creating yourself."

xoxo,
Jason Houck