PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

On top of a glass shelf next to my bed lies—among some books, graduation photos, and other stuff—a tiny black plastic box. To the average guy, this item may not look as much at first sight, but for me, it is different. This old broken box is the place where I keep one of my most treasured possessions: the deck of cards my best friend gave me, back when I was thirteen. Back then, in a day close to Christmas Day—when the weather around here is supposed to be cold—we were hanging out after school like we used to do every day, every year since we arrived to Middle School. For some reason, I found myself talking of a television series with a spiky-haired boy who had a deck of cards, and next thing I knew, just after the holidays, she came up to me with this gift. Now, every day, as a matter to kill time, I would take out the deck of cards and we would enjoy “dueling” for a little while. Someday somehow, and without me noticing of course, that deck of cards became something else—a symbol of our friendship. My best friend never really loved the game for she was what would be considered a bit normal in comparison to me, but she played along just to see me have a little fun. However, one day, we had a talk. By the end of it, she was heartbroken, and it was my fault. We parted ways at fifteen and haven’t seen her since, but her deck of cards always stayed with me. These pieces of cardboard, although not that good in an actual tournament, were, and still are up to this very day, my lucky charm.  Everywhere I went, whether it was school, home, basketball class, or onstage during an acting performance, that black plastic box with our deck of cards would be in my pocket or backpack, no matter what. I guess that I just carried it for it made me feel more confident in every situation I faced. Or maybe I did it just because it made me happy to know that I had some part of my friend with me all the time. Anyways, few years have gone by since and things haven’t really changed, but these cards, one in particular, are still by me. Every once in a while, before going to sleep, I reach out for the box and look at them for some time—the same way I did before writing this text. I know they don’t hold any real value to others, one might find them for less than ten bucks at any store, but to me, it is a beautiful friendship and a collection of priceless memories that always manages to bring a smile to my face.