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My bedroom can be seen as a reflection of literature, where every nook and cranny embodies the story’s elements of setting, characters, and plot. Over time, the items within my bedroom have gradually revealed their importance. These elements have not merely come to life; they have also significantly contributed to shaping the person I am today, conveying invaluable life lessons.

 

First, my snow globe of Budapest, Hungary. Initially, my grandfather was eager to show me his homeland since I was a toddler. However, my mother thought to wait until I was in the “double digits” for me to feel the experience and to resonate with the place to the fullest. Thus, as expected, it left an impact to remember one way or another. I enjoyed the beginning of the adventure as we inspected the beautiful architecture of historical sites such as the Parliament Building, tasted the cuisine, and, most importantly, saw my favorite animal, the koala, at a cute little zoo. Eventually, my grandpa came across a gift shop with souvenirs. I thought buying anything was unnecessary, as the experience was enough for me. One minute later, in my hands was a mini replica ‘brick-by-brick’ of a site we visited surrounded by a winter wonderland. He insisted I needed something to cherish the place and memories with him and my mother. On the fifth day, my lips and face were pale. An unpleasant sickness came upon me. “Don’t worry, Grandpa”, I told him. “We’ll be more prepared next time. Thank you for showing me your true roots”! Several Years later, he died of Lung Cancer. We must understand that nothing is for granted—to value every moment because the people and things dear to you can vanish instantly.

Next, my third-place trophy. Although I had good sportsmanship when I was younger, I always tried to be on top. I was also a critical perfectionist. At the time, I was in the Cub Scouts. We had to create the best mini wooden car by finishing the obstacle-filled race first. Metal discs, different wheels, you name it. I attempted to make a flawless car yet placed third. In the end, though, I was content with the fact that I even did well. It does not need to be perfect or number one to succeed.

Lastly, my religious books. Growing up, I never felt associated with my religion, let alone its practices. It was not because I needed a stronger connection to its meaning and spirituality, but rather the identity it comes from within active use. From stereotypes to the continuous bandwagon of hate, it was almost as if it was a crime to be Jewish. When I was younger, I was on my way to services, holding the books I would use to pray when I bumped into someone and saw what I was holding. They then took the change out of their pocket and dropped it on the floor, telling me to pick it up. While I cried that night, I understood that I should never be ashamed of where I come from.

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