Time Capsule: Part 1
An organized, yet chaotic mess with random photos, countless books ranging from romance to sci-fi, and one too many traveling souvenirs spilling over the edge of the shelf, my bookcase is undeniably my favorite part of my childhood bedroom.
Left untouched since I left for college nearly 10 years ago, sparing the occasional book I’d reread, I’d proudly tell everyone that every item was carefully placed in its optimal place. Years passed, and my collection of prized possessions grew bigger. Though my mother would otherwise say “Shreya’s collection of junk or kachro (Gujarati term for trash),” a Kindle I had received in 3rd grade to a binder filled with dental school board materials all had their spot in my bookcase.
Driven mostly by boredom after I had finally deleted Tiktok in the hopes of curbing my morning doomscrolling and having nothing else to do on my break from orthodontic residency, I stared at my bookcase perfectly adjacent to my bed. My “prized possessions” looked well aged beyond their years. My anatomy textbook, donned with a cover of a human skeleton, was covered in so many skinny patches of dust that you’d think new bones were added to the human body. I realized I internally felt the same way as I subconsciously twirled the stubborn strand of gray hair that had first appeared in dental school and officially made its permanent home on my scalp during residency. It was time for a change.
Trash bag in one hand and Windex wipes in the other, I began the task of removing every item from my bookcase. A simple task that I erroneously thought would take me 30 minutes max became a two day ordeal. I seriously doubt anyone wants to say one of their most fun aspects of break was “cleaning their bookcase” but here I am saying the unimaginable truth. Maybe Marie Kondo was on to something after all.
Slowly, things I had long forgotten about appeared. A pink camera with photos and videos from 2010 when I was determined to be a web star just like Carly Shay from ICarly. A first generation Nintendo DS with Super Mario Brothers still in the game slot. I never did make it past the 1st level. My high school yearbook signed with anecdotes and phone numbers from people whose names I forget, but whose faces I’ll always remember. Perfect timing since my 10 year high school reunion is coming up, and I needed a refresher course to save me from any awkward moments. I smiled as I relived the memories of these previous versions of myself.
As I took the time to ruminate through these objects, I kept thinking that this bookshelf essentially became my own time capsule. With all items carefully reorganized and the removal of items I no longer needed, I took another glance. No more dust, no more piles of useless crap stacked on top of each other. Though I will admit, it’s still a slightly *less* chaotic mess.
The more I think about this bookcase… (Yes,I do a lot of overthinking, sue me.)
Isn't this bookcase a physical reflection of who are as we grow up? We reorganize our thoughts as we encounter new experiences, accumulating new books on the shelf. Starting a family for some, working towards a dream career, or traveling for others. Somewhere along the way, my dreams of being a webstar turning into being an orthodontist. Though I’ve heard orthodontic Instagram reels is the hype these days so maybe that dream isn’t fully dead….
We remove ourselves from the lives of others through stepping back from relationships and friendships that we euphemistically say “ran their course.” Yet, we accumulate these memories and reminiscence upon them as we continue living because our chance encounters with these people altered who we are today. They each have their spot on the bookshelf, serving as a reminder of what was once beautiful when we choose to “reread'“ these memories. Perhaps more importantly, these memories coincidentally remind us of all the new books, items and beautiful adventures to come.
Cleaning my bookcase gave me unexpected clarity. In a time where I recognized that I’ve been scared for not meeting certain life milestones yet or knowing what lies beyond residency, looking at the simple books and objects of my life up until now made me realize how far I’ve come. Each version of myself is uniquely special and necessary to craft who I am overall.
Long story short, I need to clean my bookshelf more often, and maybe you should too.
