The year was 2006. At 11 years old at Mellon Middle School, my sixth-grade English teacher assigned a project unlike anything before: create your own time capsule. Not the kind you bury in the backyard, but the kind you stash somewhere safe and forget about.
We filled our time capsules with representations of who we were: our hopes, hobbies and some prized possessions, sealed with the dramatic flair only middle schoolers possess. We would open them “someday,” imagining that meant we’d be very grown-up and probably wearing business suits on the daily.
Fast forward nearly 20 years, and I rediscovered my time capsule while digging through an old storage bin. I braced myself for maximum cringe, but what I found surprised me. Instead of embarrassment, I felt grateful and nostalgic. And, yes, a little amused at sixth-grade me.
Let’s unpack what 2006 Sarah left behind and what it all means now.
Exhibit A: The Girl Scouts Patch
This patch instantly transported me back to troop meetings, selling Thin Mints (the best Girl Scout cookie) door-to-door, and going on adventures with friends I still see today. Back then, Girl Scouts was a sisterhood all about showing up for each other — and maybe crafting a friendship bracelet or two.
Now, I’ve traded the sash and troop meetings for a new version of community, which is quieter and more personal. It’s grabbing a quick brew with friends or watching a new TV show with my husband. The patch still stands for connection, just in a grown-up, cozier kind of way.
Exhibit B: The Paintbrush
The paintbrush reminded me how instinctively creative I was back then. I didn’t overthink it; I just made things.
These days, I wield a crochet hook rather than a paintbrush, and most of my masterpieces come in the form of blankets, plushies and other half-finished projects I swear I’ll complete someday. I also channel that creative energy into writing. Even though the mediums have changed, the urge to create remains.
I like to view this paintbrush as the first tool in a lifelong toolkit for expressing myself.
Exhibit C: The Orchestra Concert Program
Playing the violin taught me patience and discipline. I haven’t played the violin in years, but I’m sure if I had the opportunity to pick it back up again, I could probably play a few scales.
Music back then was a structured activity, full of nerves and squeaky strings. But now, music is shared between my husband and I as we trade playlists, sing in the car, and debate the most important moments in music (in which I am certain Chris Cornell is the best frontman of the grunge era). We’ve connected over music on road trips, at concerts and during the first dance at our wedding.
Exhibit D: The Letter
The grand finale was a letter from sixth-grade me to future me. In bubbly handwriting, I declared my love of softball, lunchtime and social studies.
I outlined my dream of attending the University of Pittsburgh to become a dentist or a teacher. Instead, I attended Point Park University for undergrad, Waynesburg University for my MBA, and today, I work in marketing. It’s totally different, but I’m so happy with how my career path panned out.
Did I mention the best part of the letter? It was dated May 13, which just so happens to be my husband’s birthday.
There were other treasures tucked inside, too — a photo of my sister playing softball, a Pirate bear keychain and a few folded notes from friends that I’ve decided to keep just for me. Some memories are meant to be shared, and others feel sweeter when you hold them close.
In reflection, opening my middle school time capsule wasn’t just a trip down memory lane; it was a gentle reminder that, even if the details of my life have changed, the essence of who I am has not.