Yesterday evening, while we were working on our 2000 piece puzzle on the big table in the basement, my spouse pointed out to me a medium size plastic bin on a shelf across the room that he said was full of my stuff. He asked me, nicely, if I would like to clear it out.
Since he had boxed up lots of my stuff when we married and I moved here from my apartment, it seemed reasonable to me that the contents of the bin could be mine. So this morning after breakfast we went down to the basement and he lifted the bin in question off the shelf (it was very heavy) and carried it over to a table. I opened the bin and found that it was filled to the brim with family pictures from back in the day when pictures were taken with a camera, not a phone, and developed at a photo shop. Yes we are that old.
The surprise to both of us was that they were his pictures, not mine, so it was up to him to sort through them and decide which ones to keep.
While he was sorting through those pictures, I decided that it would be a good time for me to sort through a large box of "precious" things that I had taped shut and moved with me every time I moved as an adult.
I was delighted to discover, among little albums of high school friends and other nick nacks that I knew would be there, my original baptism certificate that I had never seen before and a fat file of letters that my mother and, after she died, my father had written to me while I was in college and during my first three years of teaching. There was also a file of letters and cards that my first husband had mailed to me before we were married. I have not yet taken the time to reread these letters but I will.
But thinking about all these surviving letters, I realized that I don't write very many letters these days. Occasionally I will write to a grandchild in college or one friend who doesn't use a computer but more often (daily in many cases) I text. I text to my brother and my daughter and my son daily and my grandchildren often but not quite so frequently.
After my discoveries today, it saddens me to think that they will not have a huge stack of letters to rediscover someday. On the other hand they will not have to meet the challenge of deciding what to keep and what to throw away.
I found these two letters from my west coast brother among the other treasures. I am ten years older than him. These were mailed to me when I was in college. He would have been eight or nine years old.
Even way back then he was providing me with things to blog about.


