Natalie Baus

Stephens P3
English III AP/Dual
August 26, 2010

The Things I Carry

The things I carry, subconsciously are the things that make me who I am. Some tangible,

some intangible, both wearing me down while others lift me up. The addition and subtraction of

their weights, some days weighing heavier than a brick and others leaving me feeling as light as

a feather, plays a toll on my emotions. We all carry things that aren’t always needed and

sometimes, not even wanted, but whether we know it or not, the items we carry, the necessities,

the trinkets, the emotional baggage, the past, the stress of the present, and the anxiety of the

future all become a monkey on your back. Whether that monkey be a friend or a stalker, you

become accustomed to its constant presence and it isn’t until you loss some of that burden or it

becomes too much, that you even realize you were carrying anything at all.

A purse to accessorize, an umbrella in case of the unexpected, a cell phone to keep in

contact, and lipstick to brighten the day, these tangible things, lightweight or not, eventually add

to load and you find yourself carrying a fifty pound suitcase. Physical things end up representing

the items I can’t actually hold. A wish bracelet, whether it’s worn because it’s colorful or

because it holds the optimistic view that the bracelet really means what you think it means and

soon your carrying all your wishes as well, literally wearing your heart on your sleeve. That

photo album I carry, images in my mind flood back, just like in the old photographs and you hold

on to those memories too. Sunflower fields surrounding the family you love, the broken hearts,

empty promises, all the good and bad seen in the pictures and follow me wherever I go, unable to

be erased. It’s ever present in my mind. The breathe I held as we pass a cemetery, mixing with

the laughter too hard to contain from the look on my dad’s face.
 I carry my books, school books, reading books, cook books, poetry books, and picture

books because I hold on to a world where everything is as perfect as I hoped. School books hold

my future, reading books hold my amusement, cook books hold the perfectly crafted food too

good to even eat, poetry books hold the words I wish I could say, and picture books remind me

of the times when I was younger and the imperfections in the world were invisible. In my mind I

carry the secrets that could easily disprove my reputation, able to sway it any way I’d like, but

who would really mind them anyway.

We all have our baggage and whether we are willing to take a look inside or let others

peer inside ours, is purely up to our own thoughts and dependent on how much weight we and

those around us actually carry. Necessity or not, the deepest part of our psych knows what is

good for us, what we can let go of and the things we should hold to for just awhile longer. That

is how I know to never let go of the things that I can’t go a day without thinking about, the things

that fill me with warmth, make me smile, crinkle my nose or tap my feet. Good or bad, it’s all

there but it’s the good that I put at the top of my purse, ready for my grasp at any moment

because you never know when you might need your Fabulous Fuchsia lipstick or simply a good

laugh.