I recently attended a friend’s wedding.

The invite was a pleasant surprise, considering this was someone I’d only kept in touch with on and off over the years – partly due to distance, partly due to my complete and utter inability to respond to texts at a humanly acceptable rate (I’m getting better at this, I promise). Nevertheless, I was moved when the invite came, and happily agreed to attend. As I started filling out the RSVP form, my mind began to wander back to a couple years prior, where we’d grabbed dinner in a mall and caught up on work, life, and everything in between. Conversations with him always flowed easily; genuine curiosity peppered with humour, sass and a hint of sarcasm no matter the topic. I don’t remember much of what we talked about on that day, but something that has stuck with me in all that time was an idea we’d had about starting a podcast together. We talked about all the different topics we would discuss, the people we would invite on as guests, the equipment we would need to buy to ensure we’d produce it with the best sound quality. I distinctly remember us lamenting about the struggles of dating in our late twenties, yet how easy it seemed for so many around us. I pulled myself back to the present, smiling as I hit the “Submit” button, a warm fuzzy feeling settling in. He’d found his person, and I couldn’t be happier for him.

Memories are a funny thing. Some you’re able to recall in alarming detail and clarity despite the event having happened far in the past, others are a nothing but a foggy vision, a distant reality, so much so that you question whether it even happened in real life or in a dream. And then there are those that despite your best efforts at retrieving them are like sand, slipping through your fingers, lost forever in time. I read somewhere that who you are and your sense of identity is just a culmination of your experiences and memories, coupled with how you use them to relate to the world around you. If you woke up tomorrow with all your memories wiped clean, would you consider yourself to still be you?

People may not know this but I’m somewhat of a hoarder. Which in my defense…is a fair statement. BUT, I’ll have you know, it’s helped me recall some, if not a lot of memories which I would’ve lost forever if not for these little mementos that I’d collected over the years. Okay not the creepy kind like a serial killer…you know what I mean. Autograph books from primary school where for some reason it was “cool” to literally list out who your top 3 best friends and worst enemies were for all the world to see (and compare); a tiny photo frame with a picture of a cat from a long lost friend whose name I don’t remember anymore; scraggly notes on pieces of scrap paper from a high school crush – exchanging hands back and forth as we passed each other over lunch break or in class; handwritten cross-continental letters and birthday cards, still housed in their stamped envelopes that when read make me sob and burst into laughter within the span of a sentence; polaroids and photo strips of more carefree times with friends; ticket stubs – movies, concerts, trains, museums – you name it, I’ve saved it. I’ve collected almost 3-4 mooncake boxes worth of these keepsakes over the years. I prefer them over shoe boxes – they’re more durable, prettier to look at, and just look a thousand times cooler than a musty old shoe box. I don’t open them often, but when i do, I’m always taken on a massive nostalgia trip, one that reminds me of who I have been in all the different phases of my life, and more importantly, how they have made me the person I am today. Call me overly sentimental, but to me there is beauty in being able to reminisce and relive some of these moments, if only for the briefest of minutes.

Who will I be in 5 years? 10? Who knows. All I can do for now is fill up another mooncake box with memories, one for future me to open and look back on who I used to be.