We finally cleaned out a storage unit that we have had for too long. We got the unit when we were moving to Pennsville and needed a place to put the stuff that we couldn't fit into this house due to my mother's refusal to give up her stored stuff. The unit was useful when we moved to Nottingham as I had a place to put furniture we needed for the new house. The rest of the time was just laziness. Nobody wanted to deal with the stuff. I latched onto my son's current unemployed status and paid him to get it cleaned out.
While I thought I had gotten the stuff I wanted out of there, I had some things I had either forgotten about or thought was here at the house somewhere. One of those things was a box of memorabilia from my college years. Apparently, I kept every scrap of paper that any of my friends put a pen to. I had about four boxes of letters in that plastic box. I found some great pictures, too, of myself and of my dear friend, Erin. I took those out to scan and share. The letters went back into the box to be read more thoroughly at some point in the future, before I burn them of course. Just scanning them was eye-opening in itself.
The letters are reminders of friends I haven't seen since those years and reminders of what dear friends I still have.
Every box contained letters from Erin, of course. I probably have boxes of letters from her from our childhood stashed somewhere under the rafters of this house. I cherish those as they trace our friendship that was interrupted by her death in 2004. I won't be getting any more letters from her, but I know that our relationship is not over. I'm sure she will be there for me when my time comes. The letters are a nice reminder, though.
Each box also contained letters from my now husband, George. Tracing our relationship through break-ups and reunions and engagement. We were together and apart for ten years before we got married and letters attest to each hill and valley the details of which have flowed together. It's been thirty years since we first met and it is nice to remember the boy I fell in love with with his own words.
Another surprise was that in each box was that in each box were several letters from my friend, Todd. I remember being friends throughout, but the number of letters was eye-opening. We still write to each other, but in emails now, which brings me to the subject of letters.
Friends today communicate in many different ways, texting, emails, facebook, twitter and not one of these things can you put in a box to find in mid-life and help you gain perspective on who you were and who you have become, and who the important people in you life were and still are.
I feel sorry for today's generation. One less box of stuff to haul from house to house, but how many memories and relationships lost to the delete button?
1 comment:
Don't tell my mother I wrote letters to you. She'll be jealous. When she went through her stuff before her big move she returned all the letters the three of us had written over the years. My brother and sister's piles were about 8 inches thick and mine was about a half an inch!! It was easier to pick up the phone and ask for money than to write for it. lol
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