I can’t call it a prized possession. I call it a prized memory to a prized possession. When I was in the 6th grade, I had a best friend named Yahquara we did everything together, she was my first friend I made at my new school. I could remember it like it was yesterday; for some reason that day will be forever with me. I was running late for school that morning, when I arrived it was silent. I could remember saying to myself why it is so quiet where is everyone. When I made it to class that’s when I found out the terrible news. I found out my best friend was murdered by her Uncle no less. That is a day and feeling I will never forget. She was a lovely girl very smart with a bright future that was taken too soon. The whole school mourned her death; she was loved by everyone who came in contact with her. Since she was in our class we did a special project, and show in her honor. We made little pillows and other things in art class for her. I loved that pillow. I took it with me everywhere I slept with it, I play with it, I even used to take it in the bathroom with me when it was bath time. That following year I move down south to go to school; and of course my pillow was right there with me. I had to make a quick trip back to NY, ended up having to stay and was unable to retrieve my belongings. As the time went by and I was unable to retrieve my belongings they got thrown away. I think about my friend everyday I always think how different life would be if she was still around. That’s my prize possession the memory of her.