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Honorable Mention What I Treasure Most Ariana Varnum My most treasured item is a small brown gift box, which I keep safely tucked under my bed. If I were to lose that box, I would be devastated beyond repair. I know it’s silly to cling so desperately to these tangible memories, but everything-- down to the box itself-- has a special place in my heart. It holds so much, both metaphorically and literally. I used the box to give my boyfriend, Matt, a gift for his sixteenth birthday. Later that year, he gave it back to me on my birthday, knowing I’d appreciate the callback. Inside the box, there was a letter, a jade plant, and a pint of my favorite ice cream: Ben and Jerry’s Dairy-Free Cherry Garcia. They all seem like simple things, but they were so perfect. He knows me well enough to give me something thoughtful and personal, but not something so big it makes me uncomfortable. Matt always strikes that balance perfectly. Now, the ice cream is long gone, the plant died a month ago (I cried about this for at least an hour), and the letter, among other things, occupies this small brown box that’s littered with our handwriting. It has a pair of silly heart glasses that we took from the photo booth at the Valentines’ day dance, where I realized that I loved him. I think we were both unsure about whether or not this was a date at the time, but I consider it our first date. I think he does too; we’re pretty in sync now. To paraphrase Fairly Odd Parents, we’re two halves of a whole idiot. So we were at the Valentine’s day dance, nervously fidgeting and making small talk, despite the fact that the music was far too loud to do this successfully. Then I saw
them: two pairs of tacky, red, heart-shaped sunglasses. My anxiety was quickly replaced with chaotic enthusiasm. I insisted we wear them. He laughed and complied with my ridiculous demand. After a teacher pressured us to take what has to be the cutest and most uncomfortable looking photo-booth photo in history, Don’t Stop Believin’, the last song of the night, started playing. My whole face lit up. I grabbed his hand and ran back to the table where we were sitting before. I jumped up onto a chair, still wearing the sunglasses, and I loudly (and badly) sung along. It was late at night. I was deliriously tired and absolutely obnoxious. But when I glanced down at Matt, he was looking up at me, smiling. It was the kind of smile that made me feel like I was admired unconditionally. I had never felt that way before. He just quietly sat there, looking at me like I was a piece of art. After the song was finished and the dance was over, we walked outside, hand Illustration by Kaitlyn Johnson in hand, facing the icy winter wind, sporting matching sunglasses and goofy grins as we walked into the glistening monochrome of the night. The sunglasses have another memory attached to them. The snow had now melted, replaced by the smell of wet dirt and the beginnings of greenery. I don’t remember why, but Matt and I had gotten in an argument earlier that day. He asked me what he could do to try to make it better. I asked him if we could sneak out to see each other that night. I didn’t give him many details. I just told him to wear something nice, and to bring snacks and candles. I was planning a midnight picnic. We agreed to bike towards each other’s houses and meet halfway. We met up, complimented each other’s unusually
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