Now, as I look fondly at them, I realise even if they were laid to rest, their importance still lingers every time I decide it’s time to let them go. I suddenly understand hoarders and their reluctance, and I see now I am no different.

BY NIKITA COUTINHO

IMAGE BY EBRU KUR

On a quiet Sunday afternoon, the warm rays of the sun pour through my bedroom window, bouncing off a flurry of colours from the folded laundry on the bed. I place them in a neat stack inside the cupboard that I share with my brother: I am reminded, again, that space is a luxury, of which I have none. The simple solution here would be to finally clear out the large mahogany chest beside my nightstand, but my lack of motivation has made me avoid it for far too long.  

Now with the determination to claim my space—I got on my knees and submitted defeat—I would take the time to clean out my drawers. For years they were ignored, left shut in a quiet corner of my room, only to be opened occasionally. You could call it a dumping ground, or a second home for the things I bought on a whim, and disposed of in a jiffy. 

As I stood before the chest, I imagined the contents of the drawer co-existing in their living quarters. I pictured hairbands and keychains closely intertwined; a deck of playing cards stacked against its rivals, Uno and Monopoly. These were objects that once thrived in the outside world but now existed in a cold and cluttered space. I pictured the lives of those lucky few who could find safety in a nice corner—while tiny trinkets would be damned, entangled in a web of misery caused by the endless wires that have long since lost any purpose. 

When I tried pulling the drawer open it took all my strength. It is as if these forgotten pieces knew exactly what was about to go down: I can tell they are not keen about vacating their space. Rather, they were fighting for their right to live in the place that was rightfully theirs, and why shouldn’t they? After years of ignoring their existence and abandoning them to a four-walled wooden coffin, who could blame them? They were shown love and promised to be taken care of, only to be thrown away a few months down the line. They had every reason to claim a space that they called home, and I was a traitor in their eyes. 

But I also held a lack of empathy towards them since I banished them in the first place. I didn’t take heed to their resistance and, instead, freed the drawer away from their clutches. Even though it was a losing battle, they made sure to leave a lasting impact; from the sheer force of the pull, my hand recoiled and smacked my face. My cheeks were red as I felt a sharp stinging pain that brought tears to my eyes. 

I tried to compose myself after receiving that nasty blow and looked down to find a treasure trove of items before me. Just as I pictured, heaps of wires curled up like snakes, and trapped inside this electronic nest were an assortment of things: nail polish in all the shades of the rainbow; half of a… I’m guessing, a friendship chain that had the word “best” on it; a forgotten Kinder Surprise toy that was a bear in a floaty; and a cyan-coloured mini-MP3 player. 

Distracted as always, I drifted away from the drawer and found myself preoccupied with the MP3 player. The body was slick, shiny and was as tiny as a keychain, and could easily be confused for an iPod. It was a knock-off that did the job at half the price, which should tell you a little bit about my parent’s gifting habits. I unscrambled a few wires to find its charger and decided I'd explore what was on it once it was juiced up. 

An hour passes by, and I am elbow-deep inside my drawer pulling out little pieces of history. An old math workbook reminds me why I still struggle to split bills, little temporary tattoos behind bubble-gum wrappers that should’ve been thrown out, now leave me yearning for simpler times. Life is a lot more serious when you’re 25. You’re not young nor are you old; you’re in an awkward middle phase. I always feel like I’m on the edge of my seat trying to figure out my future. As the calendar on the wall counts the days until I turn 26, I dramatically think, it’s all over for me, a life of adulting awaits me on the other side.  

As I reflect on my quarter-life crisis, I hear a ping. My attention moves towards the mini-music player, and I rush to watch it beam to existence after years of hibernation. The small LCD screen opened up to the main menu. The evolution of technology is fascinating to me, especially with the gadgets we use in our daily lives. I am lucky to say that being born around the mid-90s made it possible to witness the transformation of mobile phones from their brick avatar to a more slender, smarter device. I must admit my MP3 player isn’t as nifty as the Apple Nano, but it could fit like a glove inside small pockets and that’s a godsend since the pockets stitched into women’s jeans are criminally tiny.  

As I scrolled through the limited list of music I had saved in the device’s library, I played the first track and it sent me back in time. I was suddenly engulfed with a concoction of emotions that I hadn’t felt in a while, a mix of cringey laughter, joy, and sadness rumbled in my heart. I found myself humming to the music, and as the memories came flying in, I was singing the lyrics aloud. Suddenly, I found myself grooving to it in the middle of the room. My head went bopping and my hands were fist pumping in the air. I felt alive, and I loved it. I felt like I was 13 again, listening to the Jonas Brothers’ album, Year 3000. I could sing the lyrics word for word. I found myself rocking to the chorus of Avril Lavigne’s classic song, “Sk8er Boi.” I remembered nights spent listening to my favourite bands, under the covers of my blanket while I answered the all-important quizzes in teen magazines. Like, which Jonas Brother was the one for me depending on my lifestyle choices. Little did I know they’d marry such amazing women; my younger self would never have guessed. Oh well, it was worth dreaming about.  

As I turn my attention to the items I plan to throw away, I feel an ache. I see that in discarding them, I am losing pieces of my history. Faced with a dilemma, I’m not sure what to do. Reconnecting with my past made me realize the magic of the things we own. How a forgotten keychain makes me smile since it was a token of a kind gesture from an old friend. And the seashells that I picked are a reminder of the beach I visited on a family trip; these are irreplaceable moments in time, tucked away in my drawer.  

Now, as I look fondly at them, I realize that even if they were laid to rest, their importance still lingers every time I decide it’s time to let them go. I suddenly understand hoarders and their reluctance, and I see now I am no different. And while I’m aware I’m going to get into a heated argument with my mother because I haven’t successfully cleaned out my drawer, I’ll take it. I want these memories to stay, to live with me and perhaps someday I might actually thank myself for keeping these time capsules. As my dad often says, “Everything we own comes to use at some point in time.” If there comes a time when we need an item, and we’ve thrown it away, we kick ourselves! 

I hold this treasure trove as a gift from the past. These gifts will one day become heirlooms for my children (if I have any). Maybe they won’t feel embarrassed by their mother’s younger self’s taste in music. For now, as I head into a new week, I’m going to exist in the present—while the sun sets on another Sunday and the voice of Kelly Clarkson encourages me to “take a risk, take a chance, make a change and breakaway.”

Nikita Genial Coutinho (she/her) is a creative writer based in Toronto. She is studying at Humber College in the Professional Writing & Communications program. She has worked previously as a copywriter and freelance content writer. You can find more about Nikita's journey here https://www.linkedin.com/in/nikita-coutinho-981357179/ 

Image: Just Some Objects in the Universe (Ebru Kur, 2022)

Edited for publication by Raegen Montaque, as part of the Bachelor of Creative and Professional Writing program.

HLR Spotlight is a collaboration between the Faculty of Media & Creative Arts and the Faculty of Liberal Arts & Sciences and Innovative Learning at Humber College in Toronto, Ontario. This project is funded by Humber’s Office of Research & Innovation.