My great grandma was an illegal immigrant from Sweden. She came over on a boat, wearing wooden shoes, which are now mine. They are small and worn and looking at them makes my imagination go wild. I have a necklace, with a forget-me-not made out of tiny blue gems. It was a gift from my mom when I graduated college (the first time). We call it "precious" and my mom and I both love it. I keep a diary that my grandpa gave me as a gift. It is leather bound, with the marking from the cow’s brand on it still. I write in it often, and know that when I fill the pages, something life changing will occur. There is a red and black wooden box with monkey’s carved into it that I bought in a village in central Mexico. In that village (a true village) I also ate some kind of menudo that was so spicy hot that I felt my throat immediately begin to swell closed. During a monumental, life transforming trek, wherein he walked across the states of Utah, Idaho, and Washington, my former boyfriend was contemplating whether or not he and I should be together as a couple. He looked down and saw a beautiful diamond ring on a path in the middle of nowhere. He rerouted from Oregon to Washington, where I was living, to give me the ring as a gift. He then continued on his trek, walking to Oregon’s west side.