Two days ago, I was going through a box in my office closet looking for some old photos (actually, to fill out a “Memories” facebook meme, but that’s not important).
To get to those boxes in my office closet, I had to take apart my shoe shelves and move them. Not a good layout, but also not important.
What is important is that in the process of looking for a photo, I found something very special to me – this postcard that my dad sent me when I was 9 years old:
I thought I had lost it during my move to Seattle. I was thrilled but also a little teary when I saw this poking out from under a pile in the box.
It’s the single piece of written communication from my dad to me that have in my possession today, and it really helps me remember him. I love everything about it – the “your” vs. “you’re,” the block handwriting (which I wouldn’t remember if it weren’t for this postcard), the postmark date, the cracks in the paper. It’s one of my single most special possessions.
And THAT is why I still carefully go through piles before I get rid of anything. I can’t bring myself to apply the “if you don’t know what’s in that box, and you haven’t needed to go into it in over a year, then you probably don’t need anything inside that box” rule. You never know.
Love Home, Will Travel 
February 13, 2009 at 4:23 pm |
What a treasure! A postcard is always a treat. The little notes from faraway makes you feel special.