August 1 marked the day most college applications opened. The day millions of rising seniors, who had been waiting to reach this pivotal moment like racehorses behind the gates, finally logged on to the Common App, Apply Texas and countless other sites. These past few months have revolved around “The Future.” But in the midst of cliché college essay prompts and visits to the counselors’ office for transcript request forms, one question keeps resurfacing in my thoughts: when did childhood end?

The other day I came across something I hadn’t seen in years. I looked underneath the bed in my old room and saw a large plastic box. As I pulled out the container, the memories of childhood came flooding back. Inside the box lay stacks of old artwork from elementary school, scrapbooks filled with pictures I begged my mom not to take, poems and short stories I had written and the first pair of thin-rimmed glasses I received in the third grade. After nearly 30 minutes, I found myself surrounded by Spongebob drawings, attempted-replicas of Monet paintings and flower-patterned journals filled with handwriting I hardly even recognize. I had not thought about most of the memories that box contained in the past few college-filled months. But as I sorted through the collection, I was instantly taken back to those moments.

Sitting there, I began to feel as nostalgic as characters reminiscing in past moments during the final episode of a sitcom. But I also felt inspired. Throughout high school, I have so overwhelmed myself with AP courses, honor societies and leadership roles that I have forgotten what it’s like to be a kid. I’d forgotten what it’s like to read a book into the early hours of the morning because you just can’t put it down. I’d forgotten what it’s like to be nervous before going on stage for a dance recital. I’d forgotten what it’s like to believe the future is a distant place.

In elementary school, art class was my favorite part of the week. After school, I would spend hours sketching pictures from books or cartoon characters from TV shows. I even dreamed of becoming an illustrator for children’s books. As I grew older, my “dream job” changed to many different careers, but I still continued drawing as a hobby. I took art classes in middle school and looked forward to taking more in high school. But when high school hit, I didn’t have time to draw much at all. As I added more and more AP courses to my schedule, I ran out of room and ended up getting my art credit online.

I also loved to dance and play the piano. But I eventually quit both of those as well. During elementary school and middle school, I kept a journal. I would write every day because I had the time to. Now, my free time is spent sleeping. Looking back at my old writing and drawings, I see a creative side that I now lack. I worry that in the midst of schoolwork and extracurriculars, I have lost a part of myself without even realizing it.

I could probably organize the photos I found that day in chronological order and still not be able to pinpoint the exact moment when the curtains closed on adolescence and the next act began. I suppose leaving childhood truly is a gradual process. In order to make the transitions though, we lose a little bit of ourselves along the way.

And maybe that’s okay. Maybe by just taking time to remember our past, we won’t be the kind of people who forget what it’s like to be a teenager the second they turn 20, or the adults that get so caught up in their careers that they forget the old hobbies that once brought them pleasure.

These past few years, I have lost some of myself while balancing school and preparation for college. But just looking at past mementoes has allowed me to remember what being a kid feels like. They have allowed me to take a moment to step away from the pressures of college to just breathe and reminisce. And maybe that’s what I needed most.