Driving. It's a metaphor for going through memory lane. Am I really that gullible to just go wherever this sticky note that appeared out of nowhere and expect I'll find someone who could take care of my childhood possessions? Of course I am. I'm just a college student after all.

It's funny really. All my life I didn't think twice about my toys. They were always there despite the few moments that they had mysteriously disappeared into thine air. Never once did the idea of donating, putting them into storage, or even throwing them away all together crossed my mind. I've always thought they would always be there.

But I'm in college now. I can't play with them. My imagination isn't what it used to be. I can't be given a couple of boxes and then play with them like I used to. Mom won't come in with a camera and say how adorable I am while I'm sitting on the floor while making cheap sound effects. Molly will never let it go down. And I'll never be able get married if all of my dates find out that I still play with toys meant for three and up.

Elmstreet was just around the corner from my house. I remember coming down here from school. Buzz and Woody would be in my hands and I run down the sidewalk thinking I must have been the coolest kid on the block with a cowboy and a Buzz Lightyear.

I pulled by the house to see a young girl and two older women in the yard. The young girl had toys surrounding her in almost perfect condition.

"But then the ghosts will escape!" she screamed and had a real face of distressed. It kind of reminded me of how I used to play with my toys.

My eyes drifted to the box beside me. Within were countless memories hidden behind simple toys bought for twenty bucks at most. I'm not even sure how some of these toys were even found. One day they weren't there and the next they were. I used to think that Santa and I had some kind of special deal. I give him peppermint and cookies and he'll give me toys every so often on random occasions.

I walked out of the car and grabbed the box out with me. I noticed how light it was and slightly regretted selling some of my countless memories throughout the years.

"Mom?" Gosh, I must have seem so awkward just standing here with a box in my hands. I looked back at the note and regained some of my confidence.

"Andy?"

"Hi," I greeted as I opened the gate. I felt relief rush over me as I remembered who lived here. The daycare center lady lived here with her daughter Bonnie.

"How are you? I hear you're off to college,"

"Yeah, right now actually," I walk closer to Bonnie with the box in hand. I could feel it getting heavier for some reason. Perhaps it was my nerves speaking?

"So what can we do for you?" she asked.

"Ahhhh," yeah, smooth, "I have some toys here,"

"Oooh, you hear that Bonnie?" I glance at the girl behind the mother. She hid behind because she was nervous. I don't blame her. I must be twice her size and a stranger no less.

"So you're Bonnie," I continued talking to her about my toys. It felt like I was literately diving into my memories to see what I can pull out and make this whole presentation interesting. Names like "Evil Dr. Porkchop" and the Potatohead couple came to mind.

I finally ended my toy session with Buzz Lightyear. For some reason, I felt happy knowing that these toys would be taken care of while I'm away. And maybe, just maybe, I'll come and visit her and I could play with them again. Almost as if I was "Christopher Robin" from those old children stories.

Just as I handed Buzz to her, her eyes caught glance of something. She crawled over and pointed at Woody. I held him in my hands, as if this was going to be the final thing I saw before I died.

"My cowboy!" she smiled and tried to reach for before I pulled it away from her reach. Buzz, Ham, Rex, and all the others I could part with, but Woody was special. But slowly realization hit me. I can't play with Woody in college. And he wouldn't be happy just being on a shelf for the rest of his never ending life. He's been here my whole life and I can't reward him with something so boring.

Slowly, the words flowed through my mouth.

"This is Woody,"

I must have been there for an hour because before I knew it, I was going to be late for my first class. I bid farewell to Bonnie and her mother as I walked over to my car. I could feel that I was leaving something that was part of me behind, but I knew it was going to be in good hands.

I took a sharp breath as I realized that this may have been the last day I would ever say that those toys were mine. I sat into the driver's seat and looked back at Bonnie. She waved Woody's hand, as if he told her to.

I plugged in the keys and took my final sight at my- her toys.

"Thanks guys," I whispered.

As I left the house, I could have sworn the toys all mouthed farewell also. I smiled, thinking that they won't have to be trapped in the attic like I had initially thought.

"Have fun, for the rest of your lives," I said to myself and wiped a tear away from my cheek.