The pencil above is Berol Prismacolor PC 989 Chartreuse, the first pencil to retire from the set my father gave me in the early ’90s. I sharpened it for the final time last night, when I realized that the core would shatter if I did so again. It’s small, but not tiny: I could still use it if I wanted to, either with a pencil extender or a light grasp of my hand. But I have a small set of more modern Prismacolors from 2017 or so that includes the same color, so I removed the Chartreuse from that set and put this one in the tin in its stead. The newer one now sits in the old Berol box.

My favorite color is purple, a far cry from chartreuse, and I never thought such a bright lemony green would ever appeal to me, even back in the ’80s when it was everywhere along with the neon pinks, peaches, and purples that dressed a generation of teenagers.

But then Inigo the Nanday came into my life, where he was my constant companion for 21 years until it as his time to pass away last year. That the old pencil is the same shade as his feathers made retiring it that much more poignant, but I take comfort in knowing it will be safe in the tin, braced by a rolled-up tissue to keep it from sliding around and breaking the tip.

One thing they don’t warn you about regarding your 50s is how many late goodbyes you start having. Things given to you many years ago by people who are now long gone wear out. The cards they sent you turn yellow and the stamps fall off. The classic, timeless items of clothing they gifted you for your birthday or a holiday start coming apart. Any rings they gave you get harder to slip over your knuckles, if they still fit at all. The glue in the bindings of the books they inherited and then passed down to you starts to crack. If you kept their perfume or aftershave, it turns acidic or loses its fragrance entirely. If you were born before cell phones and digital media, the photographs you have of those you lost fade and the tape recordings of their voices stretch and sound strange—if you even still have the audio equipment necessary to play them.

Some folks like to pick on younger generations because of all the pictures and videos they take with their phones, but as long as younger people still live in the moment and don’t create a hazard or rob themselves of the full experience just to get a good angle, I say good for them for capturing it. If they store everything correctly, they’ll always have something crisp and fresh to remember their loved ones by.

But listen, younger folks: Even if you have a ton of photos and videos, cherish the gifts people give you. Hang on to the little keepsakes you have of life milestones, either those you experience yourself or those of your loved ones, and preserve any inadvertent mementos you find in the bottom of a drawer that catapult you unexpectedly into a happy memory. Treasure the items that come to you from a place of affection, especially the small things you manage to take with you when you move from one home to the next. Those are things you can hold in your hand. Those are the things you can hold close to your heart, where the love that brought them to you still resides.