Snogo in the Wild
Hey Fam,
Some people say that to live in the moment, you have to let go of the past. I’ve always disagreed. Our past isn’t a burden to shed—it’s a foundation to build on. It’s a series of beautiful, sometimes messy, chapters that make us who we are right now.
This is a story about honoring a life fully lived, not by forgetting it, but by giving it a permanent home.
I’ve kept treasure boxes since I was little.
The first, a cigar box, given to me by my dad, who I dearly miss and keep close, is framed with an intricate gold leaf design, and shows two regal women watching over their painted world of palm trees and sea. One wears red. The other, blue. I used to believe they were guardian sisters, and every time I lifted that lid and placed something inside, I knew it would be completely protected and safe. And it was. Now I’ll tell you what it held and still holds today, some of it: a note passed in class, a button of rose quartz, a Violet-Blue Crayola Crayon (they discontinued them, you know, it’s very rare), two teeth (mine, of course), and a Mulan toy from Burger King.
I have a treasure box for every chapter. 9th, 10th, and 11th grades were a single chapter. 12th grade was two chapters all on its own. My twenties took four, and up until recently, my thirties has been one. I’m 34. The chapters of life are elongating.
I’m writing today to tell you what is inside my most recent box of treasures, some of it, and in hopes of getting another treasure. A business card, my name in letterpress, subtle impression, forest green. The sand of twelve beaches in twelve small glass test tubes. Three challenge coins. Two wooden tokens. An edelweiss pressed in a Just Kids paperback.
And a small silver metal cylinder, a well-scuffed, tested, and proven keepsake from a glorious rambling chapter of sweet unexpected freedom. I have learned to fly, to dance, to spin; all to prepare for this next magnificent journey my heart has set itself on all on its own, no less grand, only gentler. The memories this treasure holds will be a constant comfort, a place to return to again and again for the stories it tells. Thank you, Snogo.
Suze
Chicago, IL
Suze, I love how you honor every year of your life and keep your memories. As you get older, memories fade. I wish I had done a bit more to ensure I kept a memory of all the beautiful experiences of my life.
The past isn’t a place you’ve been, or a person you used to be. It’s a living part of you now. And when the things we use become the things we cherish, charged with memory, it’s a beautiful thing to create a safe home for them, so you can visit them, again, again, and again.
Big Love,
AY