The memories in a collar

I was cleaning up my room earlier today because it's been far too long, I could barely see the floor anymore. I like having a clean room, cleaning my room helps clear my mind, makes me feel like I've done something which is pretty rare for me nowadays. Then I look through this alcove under my TV to rearrange some DVDs and see all my old kink gear. Chains, pinwheels, cuffs, a paddle that hasn't been used yet.... and my old collar.

I have a lot of memories of this. I remember when we bought it, we looked for weeks to find just the right collar. I remember when it was common for me to wear it for days at a time, because I was out of my house and at hers. I remember sleeping in it for the first time, and her holding onto it, making sure I wasn't going anywhere, like I was some precious pet. I remember her taking me for walks on a leash in it. I remember bursting into tears one day when she had to leave, and went to take the collar off, because I loved feeling like I was hers.

When I found it before, I started crying. So many memories that this one piece of leather and metal bring back... but none of them sad. Every single memory I have of it, and wearing it, is a happy memory. I don't have anything else in my life that holds exclusively happy memories.