The memories that I treasure are locked safely in a box, tucked in the deepest corner of my mind, only to be opened to remember the past, or dread the oncoming future. With the sun shining on my face, I squint my eyes and walk onto the front porch. Feeling the wind brushing against my neck, I take a seat on the bottom step. Tentatively, I decide to use the key that is always resting in my hand, a welcome weight that I freely carry. Twisting the key into the lock, I carefully open the box, not wanting to lose anything. Sealing my eyes, I choose to remember.

A large, red barn, worn from the years. An endless field of grass. The scene changes. I picture myself walking towards a trail. Trees, barely upright, lean towards me, creating an archway drawing me in. Through my eyes, step after step, I wander within the overhanging branches. It is dark. Trying to discern my surroundings, I notice that the path is overgrown. With every shade of green colliding together, my eyes draw towards the bright light at the end of the path. Faintly, I can hear sparkling laughter. Entranced, I travel towards the light, like a moth going into the blaze. As I take my final steps, a hazy image is illuminated through the darkness. Reaching out, I stir the vision, erasing the cloud.

As the haze defines into a crystal clear image, I remember. It is myself, yet younger when my face was defined by my bright eyes, not by the dark circles underneath. I am smiling, teeth showing, clutching my stomach as if I am trying to prevent the laughter from escaping. I stare at my younger self, who is now looking up towards another person, pure happiness gleaming on her face. The person is Sarah, my sister, who is only a year and a half older than me. To an outsider, we look like identical twins. Yet, to my family and me, we do not look alike at all. In fact, I consider ourselves opposites. My hair, which is a rich brown, is a shade darker than hers. Our eyes, although they are both blue and green, reflect different colors in the light. Even though Sarah is older, I am taller than her, but not by much. Most people say we are the same. But to me, even though if it is the little details, we couldn’t be more different. Maybe that is why she holds my favorite memories. Stepping past the image, I plunge back into the darkness.

Traveling through my mind, with endless rays of light bouncing off, I desperately attempt to grasp the fleeting images. Falling through the endless void, I silently panic. What if I am locked in here forever? Forcing my eyes open, I glimpse the setting sun, only to be trapped in darkness again, as if my mind is screaming, “Remember!” My mind is in chaos. With nothing else to do, I recreate the last image of my sister and I. Painting the smile on my younger self’s face, the void, no longer endless, reveals the bottom. My feet land roughly on the ground.

From the bottom of my mind, I look up, revealing a kaleidoscope of memories. In the memories, I am younger, yet never alone. Tumbling through an endless field of grass, tiredness leaking off my face, my sister discreetly shines the flashlight not wanting to make our location known. Far off in the distance, my cousin yells, “Ready! Here I come!’’ To the right, I watch my younger self tip her head back in laughter, the landscape blurring in the window. My sister, sitting on my left, confidently smiles, knowing that the joke she made received a positive outcome. To the left, I find myself peacefully laying across my bed with my headphones on. All of sudden, I am jostled awake. Opening my eyes, I locate the culprit. It’s Sarah, it’s always Sarah. With a grin illuminating her face, she exclaims, “Molly, guess what? I got in!” Excitedly, I reach out to hug her. I let the darkness reach me again.

Opening my eyes, I twist the key out of the lock. Drying a single tear streaming down my face, I stand up to head inside. As the sun makes its final descent towards the horizon, I cross into my house, the screen door slamming behind me. Drawing my phone out of my pocket, I text Sarah, “How’s it going?” I wait for the response.

 I don’t have words to describe how much my sister means to me. She is my closest friend. I willingly carry these memories that hold my sister, hoping that their weight will increase into something more. Although the weight might be heavy, the happiness the memories radiate makes them light. Hearing my phone chime, I glance down at the screen. Laughing, I feel the added weight. It is not holding me down. In fact, it is holding me up. Reaching back into my mind, I place a piece of tape across the box tucked deeply in the back. With shaking hands, I label it, “My favorite memories.”