Yesterday I was cleaning out my closet, when I came across an old cardboard box with the word "Treasure" written sloppily across it. I was about to throw it away when I realized what it was. This was my treasure box. This was where I kept all of my coolest and most precious items.
             As I took the lid off, a folded piece of pink paper caught my eye. It was a love note from preschool. It didn't have much on it. Just three letters and a name etched in red: "i ♥ u. –Christina." I'll never forget her. That note meant everything to me. She was the happiest, kindest, and prettiest person I had ever met. We used to do everything together: play at the park, watch "Hey Dude", go swimming, everything. Holding the note to my nose, I took a sniff. It still smelled like strawberries.
             Next was a piece of wood I kept from a hunting trip my dad and I had gone on. It was my first hunting trip, and we didn't shoot anything, but it meant a lot to me. I was with my dad, my hero, trekking over rocks, through mud, and across hills. I did everything with my dad. He was my "superman." I always took him for granted. He was always there when I needed someone to wrestle with, talk to, and cry with. He was the best person I knew until last month when he died from cancer. I couldn't have had a better friend or father.
             There was also a pink, bubblegum cigar from my niece's birthday. Sonna was the cutest baby. I used to sit and read "Little Red Hen" and "Mother Goose" to her for hours. We'd play with Duplo, I'd sing to her, then we'd both watch Sesame Street. Sonna turned eight last month and she doesn't watch Sesame Street any more, but she still loves it when I read to her. I can't believe how fast she grows.
             As I placed the cigar back into the box, I saw a five generation photo of our family. I picked it up and ...