Instead of throwing all my keepsakes haphazardly into my treasure box, I probably should have kept them more in order and with little notes to indicate what is what.
The letter is from one of the many hard-working students at King George International College (KGIC) where I worked around 2002-2003. If I remember correctly, she was one of the advanced students, had round cheeks, and short hair in a bit of a retro cut.
Her letter refers to a Japanese bookmark, so the bookmark pictured, being Korean, is probably not the right one, but it's the only one I could find in my keepsake box. In any case, it was so beautiful and delicate that I just kept it in its packaging.
The gift meant something to me and I kept it, obviously, but I also didn't want to lose it. I guess a part of me wanted to preserve it, and the memory, intact.
Gifts meant to be used can remind us daily of the person who gave it to us. But what happens when they are worn and damaged, and time to be retired or replaced. Where does the meaning and connection and memories behind the gift-giving go?
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