I clean out my room from time to time, but there are some things I still refuse to throw out. There’s the first story I ever wrote back in the seventh grade about a girl who went back in time with a talking pigeon. A map from Yellowstone that my family relied on when there was no service in the park. Pressed leaves from that botany class I took two summers ago for an easy A. A lilac stuffed bunny from a high school ex since purple is my favorite color. Notes passed back and forth between a former friend and I in AP Russian class.

You told me last week that writers imbue memories into even the most mundane of things. I can’t listen to St. Vincent because you listed out all your favorite songs from each of her albums, and they all became my favorites. She’s even sung about me and you – It’s been years and still no sign / But, I’m keeping hope alive.

I can’t go to that Japanese fried chicken place in St. Mark’s because their fried food made you sick, and the feeling of going there makes me sick now, too.

I can’t play billiards ever again because that was all we would ever do. I’d always say I couldn’t play the game well, and then you’d lose.

You said Lower East Side was filled with bad memories, but they were slowly turning into good ones when I was with you.

I think back to that night you held my hand and told me that spending time with me made you the happiest, but then you cancelled on my birthday plans.

Once something becomes rooted in my life, it’s hard to throw it out. I’m still cleaning out middle school drawings from my closet.

I guess I have a hard time with letting stuff go.

-Raisa Alexis Santos