I don’t know why, but for the past year or so, I’ve been trying to replace various things I remember from my past: A bottle of Tweed cologne, because it reminds me of my mother. The ’69 Toyota Corona that was my favorite car, ever. (God, I loved that car!) A bulky Peruvian sweater my husband bought me for my birthday, a pair of earrings I got from a friend. Sometimes I think I would actually kill for this dress I owned with I was 15, a blue dress with caped sleeves and white stars all over it.
And of course it’s not the things themselves. It’s the memories attached to them. Why are they so important now? I guess because I’m old enough now that I’m in the part where I’m looking back.