On my bookshelf there are many books. But there are also photographs, mass cards, and a superlative award from high school. There are Pink dogs and an Alex Trebek funko pop. There’s a Billy Joel concert ticket from when I sat front row. There’s my snowglobe collection, and other random things I deemed pretty enough to sit on my bookshelf.

And there is a fishbowl. Lying flat on top of the fishbowl is a starfish. It smells weird. I try not to touch it. The fishbowl itself is covered in blue and purple melted wax, sealed shut. Halfway to the bottom of the fishbowl, where the wax ends, you can see a layer of sugar, a layer of purple rocks, a layer of sugar, and so on until the bottom. You can see one singular picture.
In 2015, the year my friends and I turned 16, we had our own little tradition. Aside from birthday vacations and dinners and Sweet 16’s, my best friend decided we should do something meaningful that we could remember for a long time. Something to show each other how much we love one another and how grateful we are to be friends.


After each Sweet 16 we made sure we had the supplies:

  • 1 empty glass fishbowl
  • 1 bag of sugar
  • 1 bag of pretty decorative rocks in your favorite color
  • 2 large, colored candles in your two favorite colors
  • 1 paper plate
  • 1 lighter
  • As many pictures as you want
  • Any other small momentos like movie or concert tickets
  • Small pads of pretty paper
  • Pens
  • Scissors
  • Tape
  • Ribbon


We sat on countless living room floors, whispering and laughing, printing and cutting photos, reminiscing about memories less than 2 years old, and writing letters to each other. If we had a dollar for every time we yelled at someone to “pass the pen, you’re taking forever,” my entire friend group would probably be rich. We always forgot to bring enough pens. I guess it was part of the tradition.


The idea was this: we’d write letters to each other, sometimes funny, sometimes emotional, always depending on if we did it the night of someone’s Sweet 16 or a random day after. Then we’d take our favorite pictures, put them up against the side of the fishbowl facing out, so you can see them at all times. The rest of the pictures went on top of the sugar and rocks. The letters went on top of those. Then you’d tape a paper plate over the top of the fishbowl. You’d get your candles, and you’d probably fight about who got to drip the wax. You’d definitely burn at least one of your friends accidentally, and you’d get tired of dripping the wax once you learned how long it takes. Once it was sealed, it was ready to go— to be placed on display in your bedroom.


Flash forward X amount of years into the future and it’s the night before your wedding or maybe the morning of, and you finally get to open your fishbowl. You will be greeted with letters, rolled into scrolls and wrapped in ribbons, and all your favorite photographs, probably extremely embarrassing by that point. Hopefully your wedding party is partly made up of the same friends you did this with. It’s okay if most of them are gone. The point was to say we loved each other, and we at least had hopes of being around for a while. I’m still on good terms with all the girls I made fishbowls with. Still close with most of them. Closer now than we were then.

I still have remnants of Sweet 16’s scattered throughout my room—a mini masquerade mask on my bookshelf, a blue t-shirt in a storage bin under my bed, purple and black and blue dais dresses stuffed in the back of my closet. But none of them bring me back to teen girl culture as fiercely as the fishbowl. No matter how many fights we had or whatever the drama was that week, nothing got in the way of those fishbowls. We could’ve been moody and hating each other and we would’ve sat there writing letters about how much we loved each other. Love it or hate it, that’s what being a 16 year old girl is. I loved it.