So much stuff to sort through as I wade through this treasure-trove of years gone by. Save, discard and maybe piles take on its own life form. In the corner of my eye I see what looks like a crumbled wad of paper shoved between two floor boards in the crawl space. Gingerly pulling back the yellowed sheet of paper it rips beneath my grasp. Piecing together the once beautifully scripted note I am overcome with emotion as I read the poetic profession of love that jumps off the page to greet me. A young soldier’s expression of love, loneliness and longing underscores every word. Who were these young lovers? How did their story end? Were they ever reunited? Carefully folding the two halves of the whole into my back pocket I continue sorting my memories into the discard, save and maybe piles.
Who were they?
Going through the past as you clean and organize. I find I spend more time visiting the memories I find than organizing and discarding. I guess that happens when we have reached almost retirement age!!!
Absolutely! And the discard pile keeps getting smaller and smaller as we try to hold onto the memories. Thanks for sharing.
i enjoyed your story, thanks!
Thank you. Have a wonderful weekend.