I’ve temporarily run out of stories to tell, so I’ve put out a call for you to share your stories here. If you have a story to share, please let me know! Today’s story — uncut and unedted — is from Mehnaz Thawer. Mehnaz’s story is wonderful look back at the small things that mean so much to us, and how they continue to impact our lives throughout the years.

When I was young, we lived in East Africa. One day we moved into a new house. While we were getting set up, I discovered some things that had been left behind by the children of the previous owner in what was now my room. Amongst them, I found a pair of ceramic masks, beautifully painted in bright but delicate hues, adorned in glitter and smiles. I loved those masks and let them hang above my bed while we lived there.

When we were moving to Canada, my mother packed away the masks in her suitcase to be given to my uncle’s family. At the time, it seemed like the worst thing in the world that I should have to part with them, but I quietly withstood the weight of her decision, trying to rationalize that they were only inanimate masks. The masks were given to their new owners, but I never did completely forget them. I also found out much later that they were Venetian Carnival masks. But to me, they meant so much more than where they had come from.

Some years ago, as I went through my uncle’s garage of his new home, I saw my dear masks. One was hanging on the wall. The other, was sadly cracked in half and lay beside its partner. Not quite tossed away, but rather neglected. At that point, it felt like a piece of my childhood may have been chiseled away from me.

Shortly after having discovered the fate of the original masks, one of my very best friends went to holiday to Italy. Upon her return, she gave me a gift that she claimed was “nothing”. To my delight, she had returned and brought back miniature version of the Venetian Mask from my childhood. My eyes welled up and she couldn’t figure out why exactly. Her gift meant the world to me.

I learned that sometimes things have a way of renewing themselves and appearing in different forms, especially when they mean something to you. It’s always a pleasant surprise to see something returned to you. It may not be in its original form, but it’s potent enough to hold all your old memories and some new ones.

My new Venetian carnival mask now hangs above my bed, just where as a child, its predecessor had graced my world with its presence.

Thanks to Mehnaz for today’s story. Have a story to tell? I’ve run out, so please share your own!