Everybody has that unsightly little knick-knack in their room, a blemish of the décor that in reality defines the deepest crevices of their personality. I have one too. A couple of years ago, on a snowy and chilly Christmas Eve; a younger version of myself stooped eagerly over the few, but promising, presents under the twinkling Christmas tree. A medium size box, wrapped in sparkly, star-studded wrapping paper, winked with the promise of my much desired-Christmas edition Bratz doll. To my dismay the package held a model human body, complete with stethoscope and fun fact flash cards. Sure I had dreamed, or rather hoped, to be a doctor; but at the time those were insignificant words. So I cursed myself silently for having added the disappointment to my Christmas list and for believing that Santa would know what I really wanted.

Now the model stands atop my shelf. It survived many renovations and the remodeling of my room. And though it’s an eyesore, I never had the heart to throw it out. After all it’s sentimental to my youth, it’s sentimental to my childhood hopefulness and naiveness. It reminds me that once upon a time I had wanted to be a doctor and wanted to help people in suffering. Now it stands on a pedestal draped in medals and awards, my past’s achievements adorning my future’s hope. Brilliant medals of bronze and silver and gold contrasting with the repulsive innards of the human body. Yet the reason it still stands is not the medals that garnish it, but it is the mundane promise of a child’s dream to be important. Hopefully the medals foreshadow the future of the model, that it one day too, will be a testament to my achievement.