Kimberlee K.

On the bookshelf in my living room, there is a nesting doll.

Before it was on my bookshelf, it was on my parents’ wall unit.

It was a staple decoration in our house, and it moved with us again and again and again.

On a shelf in my bedroom, there is a mini picture frame that holds a photo of me and my childhood friend Samantha. I am in overalls and we are hugging, bangs line my forehead. The frame says “My Best Friend” along the top and is decorated with a pair of rollerblades and a corded phone.

To most anyone else, these two things are not related. They are just two trinkets, sitting on opposite ends of my apartment, standing on their own. But in my mind, they are two pieces of the same puzzle, two pieces of the same story.

The nesting doll was brought back from Russia, a gift from Samantha’s mom to my mom. And when I look at it, I can remember all the summer days and sleepover nights I spent at their house and vice versa. I think of an afternoon at the local bowling alley when Samantha’s sister accidentally spilled nacho cheese on her leg and it gave her a second-degree burn. I think of my mom walking behind us with a fanny pack. I think of Samantha’s mom softly asking me in the middle of the night if I want her to call my mom because I’ve had a bad dream and can’t calm down. I think of headbands and striped dresses and swimming and a pair of pajamas that had characters from The Lion King 2 on them.

I don’t remember the day my mom put the nesting doll up on the shelf, I just remember it being there. And when I look at it, my mind feels like a snow globe freshly shaken, raining down random memories of being young. The same goes for the frame.

It’s why I’ll always keep them. Why they’ll survive decluttering and spring cleaning, why they’ll get packed and unpacked with every move. Because I don’t remember a time they weren’t with me. When they weren’t up there on the shelf.

And as other trinkets join them, I feel like I’m surrounded by memories. Things that, when I pick them up, or stare off into space, or have someone ask, “what’s this?” I can shake that snow globe in my mind and just remember.