I Never Had One Thing to Hold Onto — And That Shaped Me

Describe an item you were incredibly attached to as a youth. What became of it?

There is a question people often ask with nostalgia in their voice:

“Was there something you were deeply attached to as a child?”

A toy.

A book.

A blanket.

Something that carried comfort.

I wish I had an answer that fits neatly into that memory box.

But I don’t.

Growing up, I didn’t have that one thing the kind you protect, hide, or cry over when it’s lost. Not because I didn’t want it, but because life didn’t really allow attachments to settle.

Things came and went.

Spaces changed.

Responsibilities arrived early.

So instead of attaching myself to objects, I learned something else.

I learned to let go.

As a child, I watched items age, break, disappear, sometimes without warning, sometimes without explanation. There was no ceremony, no goodbye. Just acceptance. And slowly, that acceptance became a habit.

I didn’t keep souvenirs.

I didn’t hold onto childhood treasures.

I held onto moments instead.

The warmth of a quiet afternoon.

The comfort of silence.

The strength it takes to adapt.

If I look back now, I realize something important:

not having an object to be attached to taught me resilience early on.

I learned not to define safety through things.

I learned that memories don’t always need physical proof.

I learned that loss doesn’t always arrive dramatically sometimes it just blends into growth.

So what became of that item I was attached to?

It never existed.

And maybe that’s why today, I don’t cling easily.

I appreciate deeply, but I don’t possess.

I value presence more than permanence.

There’s a quiet strength in that.

Not every childhood story is wrapped in nostalgia.

Some are wrapped in survival.

And those stories matter just as much.

—Rajeshwari 💕