Sometimes, I feel like a gerbil running around on her wheel. Like a child on a carousel; fooled by the illusion of movement and passed time, yet returning to the same spot over and over. But then I stumble upon something that takes that feeling away. Hidden on the top of my bookshelf, forgotten until discovered by accident, was half of a silver heart. The word “Best” was engraved in its dull exterior. But it is more than a purchased item. I held in my hand a symbol of the past. The friends I had, the places I went, the great times I had. Thinking of where its other half resided, I reminisced of the times when this fragile charm dangled around my neck. The times in elementary school when I gathered in a circle with all my friends giggling about the cute boys playing kickball. The times when asphalt was our canvas and grass was our pillow. The times when we took recess for granted. The times that seem like another life I have lived, parallel to the one I struggle through now. Every thought that makes up my childhood flowed through my mind in an instant, all because I had found this one lost memory. It’s such a thing as this that moves the mountain blocking view of what used to be, and clears the fog that makes us forget that things weren’t always the way they are now. It is a pebble skipping across your subconscious, silently shattering the surface tension, unleashing a flood of memories. So when we feel like time is repeating itself over and over, as if we are stuck in an eternal loop tumbling over our regrets, just one small trinket can act as a cue. It is this keepsake that keeps your memories from nesting in places where you cannot retrieve them.