171. Memories in Miniature – Evelyn Menjivar
The miniatures live on a bookshelf above my desk. The books are meaningful because I now find joy in something I used to feel intimidated by. I look at them to recall the powerful emotions they inspired in the past, and they spark hope of more joyful moments in the future.
I always loved reading as a child. But in high school, assigned readings suddenly seemed incredibly difficult. I struggled with comprehension and retention, and I felt discouraged each time I stopped to search for the definition of (what felt like) every other word. Eventually I stopped trying, and when I graduated, my English teacher told me I was reading at a sixth grade reading level, which crushed me.
My peers, family, and teachers saw me as an academic overachiever, and I was headed to a prestigious university. I was so ashamed of my reading struggles that I didn’t reveal them to anyone. Independently navigating a competitive university with a poor reading level led to much self-doubt and self-sabotage, and as a first-generation college student who based her worth on academic achievement, I felt incompetent and hopeless. This lasted throughout college and even after graduation, until I gradually discovered what I loved. It felt like I was getting to know a new friend, and I admired who I was becoming.
But like so many others, when the pandemic hit, I experienced fewer joys—and sometimes none at all for several weeks at a time. That’s when a friend recommended the book A Short Stay in Hell by Steven L. Peck. Reading still felt intimidating to me, yet I could not put the book down; it provided comfort like nothing else. Though I knew I’d continue to struggle to read, I realized I would miss out on countless impactful stories if I let that stop me. Since then, I have read more books than in the rest of my life combined.
Not long ago, my sister gifted me a miniature library diorama kit. With it, I made mini-versions of my favorite books, and I loved them so much that I wanted to capture more of my joyful experiences in that tangible and compact form. I began making mini-photos of my pets and favorite places, a mini-poster from my first concert, a mini-drawing of a favorite hike, a mini-cup of coffee (my favorite drink), and a self-portrait.
The miniatures live on a bookshelf above my desk. The books are meaningful because I now find joy in something I used to feel intimidated by. I look at them to recall the powerful emotions they inspired in the past, and they spark hope of more joyful moments in the future.
– Evelyn Menjivar
