I have a lot of items I hold close to my heart, but if I were to pick four of my favorites, I would choose my trusty journal, my purse, my ring, and my novels. All of which are very important in who I am. I'll tell you why.
As a writer, my mind is an ever-twisting merry-go-round of ideas sparked by the smallest things, from a walk, public transportation, listening to other people's conversations, or even watching a TikTok video. I can get inspired by a biscuit wrapper being stuck under a truck. Weird, I know, but that's how my mind works, and due to this overload of information, I have to journal, hence my first picture.
My journal is travel size, it's very dainty and light and can fit into my small purse. There’s nothing like the rush of scribbling down an idea, my pen barely keeping up, only to later decode my messy scrawl and relive the spark. Unlike a phone’s note app, the physical act of writing, feeling the paper, seeing the ink smudge, makes me feel alive. Flipping through old journals is like opening a time capsule; each page drips with nostalgia, reminding me of moments and stories that have shaped me. It is one thing that I can never let go of.
And when I need to escape the pull of social media, I take my journal to the park, find a quiet bench, and lose myself in its pages. No phone, no notifications, just me, the breeze, and the words I’ve poured out over time.
My black handheld purse, once my mother’s, is more than a practical accessory. It is a piece of my family’s heart, the first gift my father gave her, and a symbol of their young love. And now it is mine. Its sleek, soft leather, worn by years of use, carries the weight of their story. I imagine my mother holding it, her fingers tracing its edges, smiling at my father in those early days. It is compact, fitting perfectly in my hand, and has my cards, money, and keys, as well as a piece of my parents’ legacy. I feel my mother’s presence as I carry it, her strength, her love, and the love that started our family.
The second thing I adore, a rebellion to my minimalist lifestyle, is my ring. It's a promise ring I got from my boyfriend on the day he asked me out; to me, it's a representation of our promise, love, and loyalty to one another. I take it everywhere with me because it's a little piece of him I can rotate whenever I miss him. The depth of our emotional connection is truly reflected in this significant gift he has given us.
He has a piece, and he does the same, so it's all love here. It's a piece of beautiful jewelry, and I love that he listened to all my rants and reposts and got me the exact one I wanted. This shared love and understanding in our relationship is something that always makes me feel connected to him, no matter where we are.
Finally, my novels. Anyone who knows me knows I adore books; If I could live in a mansion of books with constant electricity and WiFi, I would be in heaven. I'll do it immediately.
In a generation of computerized books, I feel at home with my novels, and oh, how they light up my world! They’re not just books to me; they are portals to other lives, other worlds, and other versions of both me and others who are around me. I have a small but cherished collection of little notes to my future self about what moved me or made me pause.
There’s something magical about holding a physical book, turning the pages, feeling the weight in my hand, and knowing the story each one carries and how it will shape me in some way.
I love reading new books, each with a unique voice, that describe the complexity of human emotion in ways that make me pause and stare into nothingness for a moment. I will read anything from sweeping historical sagas to quiet, character-driven stories that feel like a conversation with a close friend. These books, to me, are a journey, and I carry them with me, not just on my shelf, but in the way they shape the way I see the world.
They are a reminder that stories, like my journal and ring, are threads that tie me to who I am and who I will become in the future.
