There’s an unspoken truth about living in the South: we hoard things. Not like empty-mayonnaise-jar-hoarding (though I’ve seen plenty of that too), but things with stories behind them. We collect the sentimental, the practical, and, okay, the occasionally absurd—because we know it’s the everyday objects in our lives that tell the best stories.
Now, if you’d asked me five years ago what I “couldn’t live without,” I’d have rattled off a list full of skincare products, novels, and maybe my favorite bottle of Chardonnay. But what I can’t live without now? Well, it’s not always glamorous, but it’s real. These are my must-haves, and they come with stories worth telling.
1. My Paw-Paw’s Cast Iron Skillet
The first thing you need to know is that I inherited this skillet under no particularly romantic circumstances. My mom handed it to me when I moved into my first apartment, muttering something about “seasoned cookware” being better than Teflon. But what she didn’t tell me? This skillet has survived countless family dinners, a grease fire, and likely, a few questionable attempts at frying catfish.
This skillet is heavy enough to knock out a home intruder and reliable enough to produce biscuits so buttery they’ve ruined first dates. (Seriously—try cooking for a guy only to have him fall in love with flaky layers instead of you, and see how that feels.) It’s scratched, well-loved, and arguably older than I am, but it reminds me I come from good, scrappy people who know how to make do.
Why it matters: Passed-down objects hold wisdom. Relationships are a lot like cast iron—you season them, take care of them, and they’ll last the long haul.
2. My Box of Letters
Yes, actual, handwritten letters—you know, the kind made with paper and ink. Some are tied with ribbon, others stuffed into envelopes so faded they’re practically sepia. A few are from high school sweethearts and early college crushes, filled with cringey declarations of undying love. Others are from my dad, who always adds a gentle reminder to “eat your greens” at the end of every note he writes.
One stands out. It’s a letter from my college roommate—the only person who understood how I could cry over both a botched research paper and a boy named Cole in the same breath. She wrote, “Carrie, one day, you’ll laugh at how small this feels. But in the meantime, let it be big if it needs to.”
I pull these letters out on hard days and heavy days. They’re proof that no matter where I’ve been—or how big or broken-hearted I’ve felt—someone saw me, held me, and wrote my name like it mattered.
Why it matters: Relationships need reflection. Take time to revisit what’s shaped you and who’s cared for you. Bonus: nostalgia does wonders for practicing gratitude.
3. A Bottle of Hot Sauce
Hear me out. Hot sauce is an underrated metaphor for dating and relationships. Not everyone welcomes it, but for those who do, it makes everything better. Eggs without hot sauce? Bland. Tacos without hot sauce? A tragedy. Conversations without spice, curiosity, or an edge of excitement? Skippable.
The particular bottle in my kitchen right now is Louisiana Hot Sauce, though I can make room for Tabasco or Crystal if I’m feeling egalitarian. It’s a humble reminder that even the mundane can benefit from a little spark. Some relationships sizzle right away, while others need time to heat up. Regardless, there’s something beautiful about a little kick turning the ordinary into tastebud poetry.
Why it matters: Whether in food or love, don’t settle for bland. Go for the spark—and carry the hot sauce.
4. My Well-Worn Running Shoes
No, this isn’t some inspirational nod to fitness. I don’t love running; I tolerate it. But these shoes—the ones with soles peeling back and faded streaks of orange mud from Jogging Trail #12 at Chewacla State Park—they’re a symbol of persistence.
I used to run to escape—bad dates, bad grades, and bad moods. Now, I lace up for clarity. (Though let’s be honest, running doesn’t solve everything. If you’re spiraling over a breakup and try sprinting your way to peace, you’ll end up emotionally exhausted and physically sore.)
Still, those shoes remind me that meeting challenges head-on is worth something. A run won’t fix all your problems, but it’s hard not to feel proud when you finally pass the mile marker you swore you’d never reach.
Why it matters: Relationships require effort, too. No shortcuts, no magic tricks—just showing up, even when it’s hard.
5. A Stack of Southern Storybooks
If I ever had to evacuate, the stack of books sitting on my coffee table would be the first thing I’d save. My current lineup? Their Eyes Were Watching God by Zora Neale Hurston, Sing, Unburied, Sing by Jesmyn Ward, and my umpteenth copy of To Kill a Mockingbird. (You’d think I’d stop lending it out to flaky friends, but I never learn.)
Why these stories? Because they’re reminders of the complexity of relationships: the love that endures, the betrayals you don’t see coming, and the fragile reconciliation we all hope for. Plus, their settings are drenched in Southern imagery—Spanish moss hanging over dirt roads, front porches creaking under the weight of evening conversation.
When I need perspective, I go back to those stories, not for answers but for empathy. They remind me to dig deeper into the why behind people’s choices—mine, theirs, and everyone in between.
Why it matters: Stories are the backbone of relationships. The ones we tell ourselves, the ones we invite others to share, and the ones we live every day.
6. My Grandma’s Pearls
Here’s a fun twist: my grandma always said these pearls would “make a girl marriage-material.” I disagree (bluntly), but I still wear them when I need to feel grounded. Not because I think they’ll land me a husband but because they’re a testament to my roots.
Grandma wore them to square dances with my granddad. I wore them to job interviews where I channeled more confidence than I ever thought possible. Are they magic? Not likely. But they make me think of grit and grace—which, let’s be honest, are two of the most underrated qualities in navigating relationships.
Why it matters: Wear what makes you feel like your truest self, whether it’s pearls or sneakers. Confidence attracts more than a polished image ever will.
7. A Secondhand Piano
I fought my mom on piano lessons for years, until I finally realized how much music soothes my overthinking brain. A few years back, I found a cheap upright piano on Facebook Marketplace—its keys a little sticky but its history too heavy with potential to pass up.
Now, every time I sit down to bang out a half-decent rendition of “Georgia on My Mind,” I feel like I’ve fallen back in step with a part of myself that gets lost in the chaos of everyday life. Dating does that too sometimes—it asks us to find harmony between messy schedules and missed notes. Some relationships make symphonies, while others are off-key duets. Regardless, we gotta keep playing.
Why it matters: Music, like love, is about rhythm and perseverance. Keep playing—even when mistakes feel cringe-worthy.
Takeaway Time: What Are Your Non-Negotiables?
The things I can’t live without aren’t fancy or trendy—no $500 face serums or TikTok-approved gadgets here. They’re sentimental, practical, and deeply tied to who I am. And that’s what relationships—and life, really—are all about: finding the essentials that tether you to your truest self.
So, what’s on your list? What are the objects, ideas, or rituals that keep you grounded, make you laugh, and remind you of who you are? These things don’t just tell your story—they’re the building blocks for every relationship you’ll ever have.
After all, life’s too short for meaningless clutter or bland hot sauce. Claim what matters and let the rest go.
