It's not like I looked at them all the time. Or ever, actually. I mostly forgot they were in the bottom drawer of a chest that was in the attic.
Still, they moved with me from my childhood home to the house where Mom lives now to my apartment to the home I bought when I was convinced I was going to be an old maid with many cats to here, my "home" in Delaware so they must have meant something to me.
They are now in the trash.
I did read them before pitching them though.
Now I feel all sad and nostalgic. I haven't spoken to some of the people who sent them in over a decade. Others I speak with weekly.
It was very interesting to read their words. Promises made and long broken. Platitudes. Surprising insights. Phone numbers which were probably disconnected ages ago. Stories about Jon, stories about me and the courage I needed to have. Did I live up to their expectations? Maybe on my good days.
Interestingly, there were also a bunch of 21st birthday cards but no cards from when Dad died in the pile. I know people sent them -- imagine my friends and coworkers trudging back to the Condolences section less than a year later, thinking, "What the FUCK did that family do to piss off the universe so badly?" -- but I guess I threw them out as the arrived. I truly don't remember, that period of time is all smoky and gray in my memory vault.
In another drawer, I found the garter from my wedding, a pair of knee socks from high school and all 8 of the General Excellence pins I was awarded in grade school for having the highest general average in my class each year. Except for the garter, that all went in the trash bin, too. No need to remember how smart I once was. It only makes me feel dumber now.
Maybe I should have kept some of it, all of it, but where and why? Our house is short on storage and my mind is long on memories, too many of them depressing enough to sink me. I don't need cards to remind me of that time in my life. Tangible reminders of The Dark Days just might be the last thing I need, today or ever.
1 comment:
Wanna know the strangest thing I ever had trouble tossing? The the tiny boxes of baby teeth we found in my mom's undies drawer after she passed away. She'd saved all our little teeth in boxes, and for years I saved those little teeth in my own undies drawer...until I realized how double-macabre that was.
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