Hutch

This is my hutch.

Painted and given to me by my grandparents.

Within its drawers,

I encapsulated my girlhood experience.

Notes, letters, birthday cards–

misspelled poems dedicated to crushes.

Tiny trinkets and sacred artifacts–

rocks I thought were pretty,

lockets that held deep magic.

Inconsequential things to everyone but the girl who placed them there.

Who smiled at the items and carefully tucked them away.

Photographs, programs, and tickets to places abroad–

numerous journals and dairies with messy cursive handwriting.

Drawings, school i.d.’s and concert stubs–

stickers and nail polish, permanently imprinted on its doors.

For years I’ve kept this trove of treasures, never once considering to let it go.

Because to me, it’s still enchanting.

It’s inconsequential and small to everyone but the girl

who gave it a fresh coat of paint.

This is my hutch.

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