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My wallet is of the “girly” kind: long and thin with a magnetic clasp and 3 sections. The outside is brown fake something-or-other skin with a cut out piece of fabric displaying cherry blossoms on the front fold. On the back is a large zipper pocket that awkwardly unzips on all three sides, making change retrieval an embarrassing task. Inside the pocket are two movie stubs, a shard of glass from C’s hand (post car accident), and $4.90 in change. On the inside left-hand section, there is a pocket for a checkbook, and I have obliged the wallets wishes and jammed my seldom used checkbook into it.
Stuffed into the pocket behind my checkbook is evidence of my little version of hoarding. There are two more film festival stubs, two cinema film stubs, two school photos (my sister and my best friend), one prom photo (my friend A and her senior date), one photo booth print (ripped in half) of C and I, one prescription sticker, one fortune cookie fortune (“you are kind and trustworthy by nature”), one Biology Club decal, and one carnival ticket from years ago.
The center section has six pockets for cards and things. Besides hoarding movie ticket stubs, I am also guilty of keeping gift cards that have less than $5 on them. (The $5 rule is, I think, the second most important rule that Oprah can stand behind, just after the 1-year-closet rule.) And so, in my easy to access pockets I have stored: two movie theater gift cards, one Anthro card and one Anthro gift card, the Live card (which selfishly dictates which restaurants I frequent). As a young person, I was told I ought to start building credit, so I applied for (and was accepted for) two credit cards, which share a pocket with my bank card. In my self-designated “ID card pocket” you will find one CA ID card, one CA driver’s license, and CSU Fresno State Student card. And, in a pocket all its own, is my AAA card, which I have had the pleasure never to use. Finally, I keep my favorite picture of C and I, from my senior prom.
Yet another hidden pocket of treasures awaits. Behind my seemingly unnecessary collection of gift and discount cards is just more of the same old thing. One unused Rasputin gift card, two cards with admittedly small amounts on them, the card for C and I’s storage unit, two more fortune cookie fortunes, four ticket stubs (for only two individual movies), my GB3 week pass (long since used), and my second favorite picture of C and I, from my junior Sadie Hawkins dance.
Once I thought my wallet had been left at an event that I had volunteered for. What followed was a very hard few hours when I thought I had lost a huge chunk of my life. It is odd how, when taken as a whole, my wallet, your wallet, anyone’s wallet can seem like the entire world. However, when broken down to its individual parts, all it is is a collection of little memory tidbits.
