Every year, during school days, we lived in wait of the 2 month summer holidays when we used to go to tirunelveli, our hometown. The most happy memories of my life are in that one house, our aunts house and the most painful moment was returning back home. During the 3 day return train journey, I used to cry uncontrollably.
Every year, we used to part the house with memories and also the toys with great pain. Then I found an idea. There was some beach sand on one corner of the house premises. We went there, and buried toys and kitchen set inside the sand, so that we can come the next year and find the nostalgic joy intact.
It was some way I found to not let the joy escape, I lived the next year thinking the joys are not lost, it was waiting for me, buried deep in that sand. And next year I went and checked , only to find that most sand was gone, may be they used it for some building purpose or wind blew it away and 1 or 2 toys only I could find.
Also, I matured next year to an extend that people and the moments then existing was more fun, that those hidden toys.
But I still love that idea and that hidden treasure.