There’s a shoebox in my closet filled with things I probably shouldn’t still have.

A concert ticket stub from a show I barely remember. A chipped mug with a faded logo from a roadside diner. A key with no door to open. A letter written in messy handwriting that still makes me laugh—and ache—a little.

These are the things I carry.

They’re not valuable, not in any traditional sense. But they’re mine. And they matter. They remind me of moments that shaped me, of people who passed through my life like unexpected summer storms—quick, powerful, unforgettable.

We all have our version of the shoebox. Maybe it’s a drawer. Maybe it’s a dusty corner of the garage or a digital folder on your phone. These little time capsules hold pieces of our hearts, our former selves, and sometimes, our unresolved goodbyes.

Sometimes we hold on because we’re sentimental. Sometimes because we’re stubborn. Sometimes because we’re afraid that letting go of the item means letting go of the memory.

But here’s the thing—memories don’t live in mugs or ticket stubs. They live in us. The stuff? It just reminds us to visit them once in a while.

So if you’re decluttering this spring (or if your closet’s been silently judging you), maybe don’t be too hard on yourself. Keep the letter. Toss the sock with the hole. And if you do let go, say thank you before you do.

Because the things we carry tell the story of who we are—and who we’ve been brave enough to become.