By : Chloe Hon
I found myself cleaning out my closet
the other day.
At first
it didn’t seem like much.
Just stacks of clothes.
Some which I haven’t worn in years.
Others I simply don’t find
attracting anymore.
But the longer I sat there
looking through them,
the harder it became
to decide what to give away.
I kept finding excuses
to put things back into my drawers.
Maybe I’ll find an occasion
to wear this again.
Maybe it will look cute
with my new pair of jeans.
Maybe I just forgot
how much I liked it.
Even though
I already knew
I probably would not wear it again
and eventually forget about it.
Some pieces
weren’t really about the clothes.
They were about
the memories they held.
A sweatshirt
from my first basketball tournament.
A dress
I got during my first trip to Japan.
A pair of jeans
that used to be my favorite.
A bucket hat
I wore everyday in 6th grade.
Each one
held a memory.
Small reminders
of who I used to be.
For a moment
I sat there
reminiscing the
past.
But closets
only hold so much space.
And life
keeps moving forward.
So I folded them into a pile
for my little cousin to wear.
Not because they didn’t mean anything
but because they already had.
Out with the old
that no longer fits my life.
In with the new that awaits
another version of me.By : Chloe Hon
I found myself cleaning out my closet
the other day.
At first
it didn’t seem like much.
Just stacks of clothes.
Some which I haven’t worn in years.
Others I simply don’t find
attracting anymore.
But the longer I sat there
looking through them,
the harder it became
to decide what to give away.
I kept finding excuses
to put things back into my drawers.
Maybe I’ll find an occasion
to wear this again.
Maybe it will look cute
with my new pair of jeans.
Maybe I just forgot
how much I liked it.
Even though
I already knew
I probably would not wear it again
and eventually forget about it.
Some pieces
weren’t really about the clothes.
They were about
the memories they held.
A sweatshirt
from my first basketball tournament.
A dress
I got during my first trip to Japan.
A pair of jeans
that used to be my favorite.
A bucket hat
I wore everyday in 6th grade.
Each one
held a memory.
Small reminders
of who I used to be.
For a moment
I sat there
reminiscing the
past.
But closets
only hold so much space.
And life
keeps moving forward.
So I folded them into a pile
for my little cousin to wear.
Not because they didn’t mean anything
but because they already had.
Out with the old
that no longer fits my life.
In with the new that awaits
another version of me.
