A Special Cloth

I am am and as long as I could remember, have been one of those people who keeps everything. I struggle to throw things away because they might come in handy one day or they mean something to me. I even still have all my notes from all my college classes, you never know when that information might come in handy. I sat and looked into my room and tried to think of why I have all these things when in reality I never use things again or things don't mean as much as I thought. Visiting the University Museum and looking at all the handmade baskets reminded me of a piece of cloth I have.

The cloth that I speak of is not just an ordinary cloth, at least not to me. It was a cloth that my grandma and I sewed together. It is small and has flowers on it. I can still remember when she was teaching me how to sew. I even messed up one of the flowers on the cloth. My grandma learned to sew from her mother, so it meant a lot to me that my grandma wanted to teach me how to sew. Even though I have no practical use for this cloth I have kept it around because of what it means to me. I usually use it as a cloth to place other objects on. But when I look at the cloth it means more to me then just a beautifully sewn cloth with one very messed up flower. In the cloth are memories.

For many of the objects I have I like to think that they mean as much to me as that cloth does, but when I really pay attention to things, they don't. Ive come to realize that perhaps I have so much stuff because the more stuff I have, the more memories I'll keep, the more meaningful my life is. The more stuff I have, the more stuff I have. And I always thought that to be of great importance.