Generations Abroad Media (GAM)

When I moved into my college dorm, the room felt like a blank page - clean, empty, and a little too quiet.

Everyone around me was decorating fast:
string lights, collages, plants, giant Costco snacks.

I didn’t know where to start.
I didn’t even know what “my style” was supposed to be.

So I unpacked slowly.
Piece by piece.
Memory by memory.

And somehow, my desk shelf turned into a tiny museum -one that wasn’t planned but grew naturally, like a plant finding its way toward the sun.

Exhibit 1: The tiny wooden rabbit

My grandma gave it to me before I left for college.
She said,
“This rabbit will keep you from being lonely.”
I didn’t tell her I felt too old for charms.
But now it sits on my shelf like a tiny guardian.

Whenever I miss home, I pick it up.
It smells faintly of sandalwood -
like her hugs and the top drawer of her dresser.

Exhibit 2: A ticket stub from the first movie I watched alone

I saw an animated film on a Wednesday night.
No friends.
No plans.

It was the first time I treated myself without needing an excuse.

That ticket represents independence -
the quiet kind that doesn’t need an Instagram post.

Exhibit 3: A pebble from the lake behind campus

My friend and I walked there during midterms week.
We talked about everything and nothing.
She said something I still think about:

“College isn’t where you find yourself.
It’s where you meet yourself for the first time.”

I kept the pebble so I wouldn’t forget.

Exhibit 4: A letter from my younger brother

Three lines.
Terrible handwriting.
But the words live rent-free in my heart:

“Don’t forget us.
Also don’t freeze.
Also don’t date weird people.”

Siblings don’t say “I love you.”
They say things like this instead.

Exhibit 5: A fortune cookie slip

“You will bloom in unexpected places.”
I don’t fully believe in fortunes,
but this one arrived on a day I was questioning everything.

So I kept it.
Sometimes hope is a small piece of paper that fits in your pocket.

Together, these objects tell a story:

Not a grand one.
Not a cinematic one.
But the quiet story of growing up.

Because growing up doesn’t happen all at once.
It happens in tiny moments:

- your first independent treat
- your first long walk with a new friend
- your grandma blessing you in her own way
- your brother’s accidental tenderness
- the universe sending you a gentle reminder

My desk-shelf museum holds these pieces for me
so when college gets overwhelming,
when the world feels too loud,
when I forget who I’m becoming,
I look at these objects and remember:

I am built from many places,
many people,
many small miracles.

And somehow, all of them fit on a single shelf.