10.17.365: Memories

Every one has one of these boxes, right? A box where you’ve shoved every playbill, ticket stub and letter from when you were young. Or maybe it’s just the hoarder in me that makes me keep all this stuff. I’m glad I did though. Every once in a while I pull it out and remember what it was like to get letters in the mail. Real letters, not just a card that says Happy Birthday with a signature at the bottom. Honest letters, written on a special card, with tiny print on the front and back, to fit everything in.

I miss letters.

Even though I don’t get letters anymore, I’m still collecting things. This box is overflowing, I’m going to need a new one soon. Although, the next one is going to fill up a little slower. I put more in my kid’s boxes than my own these days. But, it’s still getting additions. Then when I’m eighty I can look back and say, “Look how young I was!” and remember all the stuff I did was I was only thirty-something.

Or fifty-something.

Or seventy-something.

I hope letters come back in style before then.

 

 

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