For me, I suppose it was the medal I won in figure skating when I was 12 years old. Or maybe all those plaques with drama masks on them from back in high school. They were wonderful, preternaturally golden things, something plated over plastic, no doubt, but it didn't matter. They promised a big, gleaming future in a pearl-filled oyster of a world that I had barely begun to pry open.
I'm not sure where all of those things are now. Maybe in my mother's attic or in a taped up box in my garage. Maybe the trophies in this photo are destined for similar uncelebrated storage. No matter. The memories will always sparkle.