Goodnight Alaska

When I was like 7 or so, Dad took me to Cars, the local grocery store by our house in Alaska (they had an ice cream place inside, and for special treats mom and dad would take us to Cars to get ice cream. We always got bubblegum. We’d spit the bubblegum into napkins and save it for later) and they have those boxes in the middle of the store where they put random discount items on occasion.

One day, in that bin, I found this huge night shirt. I must have completely fallen in love because dad bought it for me, and I wore that thing almost every single night of my life until I was in college (don’t worry, I washed it). The only reason I stopped wearing it is because it got so torn. The armpits were gaping holes, the neck band was all torn and gaped and the rest of the shirt had holes everywhere. It didn't bother me for a while, but it got to the point where it was rather ridiculous to continue sleeping in it. It broke my heart when I couldn't wear it anymore.

I couldn’t bring myself to throw it away, so I packed it into a box of shirts I don’t wear anymore.

When I was de-junking the cave, I found it. It’s amazing that something as small as a shirt could have such a good memory with it. That I remember so specifically when I got it, where, that it was in the discount bin, etc.

I’m like that with things though, and people I guess too. I get attached to things/people, and I don’t want new things. I want my same car to work fine forever and never get a new one. I want my same phone, my same clothes… I really don’t like change that way. Whats weird is I love going to new places and moving. I just want all the old stuff to move with me. J

Love,

Brittney