I am full of memories. I keep special gifts in my small room, from different friends, my family, and different times of my life. I named my room Museum of Memories.
It starts from my childhood clothes: funny pants—dirty, dusty, some parts torn. They have the smell of my childhood, when I played in the dust with my friends and built mud houses, spent hot days of the summer in the sun. When I see my childhood clothes I remember my sunburned face and the pain of my nose when I washed it with warm water.
I am in a different world with different feelings when I look in the postcards of my album. I remember my teenage time, the days I went to school. I remember Fahima, my school friend who gave me a Bollywood postcard and told me that she is in love with the picture and will marry the superstar after she graduates from school. She was a simple girl with her super dreams and I was also—I believed she would marry the superstar!
When I look at other clothes in the corner of the room, I see the jumper I took from Laila by force; she became angry at first, then when I helped her with the bag full of potatoes that snowy day of winter, she gave me the jumper on my birthday. I see the green chadar (veil), which is Karima’s favorite color and with that I remember the happy spring memories I had with her.
The Taj Majal sculpture on my dressing table is a memory of my very close friend Sela, and reminds me of her romance and love with her boyfriend. She couldn’t keep the sculpture herself so she gave it to me.
I also have a collection of songs, which relate to different memories, and when I play them I want to cry for those moments with my friends. I sometimes play the song “Last Night” more than ten times.
Last night till the morning
I told story to my darling
He was sleep
I was awake told stories
I told many stories
I cried slowly not to wake him up
I repeated my stories
Till the end of night…
Everything in my museum has a special cost; they are unique, and dear, dearest as my friends. The two most dear and precious have to do with my dad. There is my watch, which Dad sent from a trip, and the other is what I see in the mirror, my lovely shiny hair. Dad told me never cut it. I love girls with long hair. Every day when I comb my long brown shiny hair, I remember him.
I have only lost one thing, which I still can’t forget the pain of. I lost my love letters, which I hid in my grandfather’s winter coat 15 years ago. Last Sunday my husband gave the coat to a poor man!
The objects I have kept are all reminders for me, of golden times, happy moments and long sorrows. They are like alarms waking me up to remind my mind to be happy, and understand the value of friendship and learn the lessons of ever-constant love.
by Roya
Dearest readers!
One thing more is very dear and unique to me that is your comments for my writings, when you write your comments after I read them, I copy them and file them on a document, it is also property of my Museum. I Love all of my writing’s readers!
Dear Roya,
written so simply but very meaningfull, the way you have explained your memories of childhood continuing through your current married life is awsome.
Really appreciate it, keep it up
I love the idea of a “personal museum.” I also have many things which hold special memories and remind me of my friends, loved ones and childhood. I’m sorry to hear of the loss of your love letters. Maybe someone else will read them and be inspired to believe in love! I would love to read more of your stories. :)
Roya,
Your “personal museum” will always remind you of your past memories; both good and bad. I love how you started this story with your youngest memories first, and moved up to the present day. This story is simple, but also inspiring. When I was reading your story I was constantly connecting the similarities of our childhood and teenage years. Even though you are writing all the way in Afghan and I am here in America; I find it cool that we can still connect in such small ways. Your stories are great. Keep writing!
Dear Roya,
I want to start off saying that I was given this website by a teacher from the college I am attending and was told to go read some stories and comment to the writer after. I am so glad that she gave us this site, it is such an amazing way to learn and appreciate people from outside of the USA. The way you write really inspired me to just keep reading. I read all your stories and will continue to read them. I got so carried away by your words that I forgot to post a comment and now I have reread your story and I love it even more the second time. The way you collect things is very unique almost like scrap booking or like you have said you made your own personal museum. I do something very similar for keeping my memories on display or just to capture the day or event. I go to thrift shops and nick-knack shops (Good will, Salvation army, yard sales..etc.) and I buy clear glass jar/containers. (I make sure they are clear so I can see what I am putting in them) I have a whole shelf in my bed room dedicated to my jars and in each one is a memory. When ever I travel I bring home some earth or a trinket and I arrange them in the jar until I am satisfied I then label the jar with the date and the place. I loved reading how you do something so similar and hope that you continue to do it. I enjoyed the way you described each item with the memory and your age it gives us a time line to look at. I think this is a very healthy way to hold memories close to you. I really enjoy the way we can connect our two cultures to find that people are people and can be very similar in personality no matter where you are from. I look forward to fallowing your stories! Keep it up!