Letters and Cards

   The ongoing project of cleaning the storeroom continues. I'm taking a break from sorting through books to go through the boxes of papers that have sat on selves for ten years. I have come to a couple of conclusions which I would like to share with you. They are in no particular order.
  I wrote a lot of letters over the years. When did I have time to do this? Most of these letters were written when I first got out of college. My first job was in southern Minnesota at Snyders. It was a busy pharmacy and I worked a lot of hours. It was not uncommon for me to finish my shift, go home, call a local restaurant and order an appetizer platter. I would drive back to work stopping by the restaurant to pick up my food. Then I would work for a couple more hours and eat my meal at work. On the weekends, I would drive back to my parent's house. My grandfather was living with them and I would help them out by taking care of him. After 3 years I transferred to another store and worked just as many hours. Since I now lived farther away, I visited my parents every third weekend. I could have written many of these letters on the weekends that I stayed at home.
  Some of the letters are from people I don't recognize. Most of the letters are from people I know, they were people that I met when I was in college. I stayed in touch with several of them after they or I graduated. Reading the letters did not help me to discover the identity of these people. I looked at the letters and cards intently, hoping that something would jog my memory. They couldn't be former coworkers because the people I worked with didn't move. I was never close enough to those I had worked with to stay in touch anyway. I felt bad not knowing who these people are. Judging from what they had sent to me, we obviously liked each other a lot.
  I found a large shoebox that had the words " Love notes from C" written on the top. I opened it up. This was a large box. There must be letters from other people in it.  No, the box was labeled correctly. It was full of cards, notes and other pieces of paper that C had written and given to me. There were also cards that I had given to him. These cards were from when we were dating and the early years of our marriage. The first note I gave him that had my phone number and email address was in that box. Many of the cards that C gave me had some kind of date on it so I knew when he gave it to me. There were a lot of cards and notes in this box. I know when we were dating we spoke on the phone to each other for an hour or so every night. We also spent one day a week together and many weekends. Given the amount of time that we spent communicating with each other, why did we give so many cards? We were definitely smitten with each other, no doubt about that. C liked to underline certain portions of text on the cards and add his own thoughts. I liked to add a little something to the text already written on the card. I saved all of them.
  I think the reason why I saved all these letters over the years is that I thought I might write a book. Something along the lines of Laura Ingalls Wilder who wrote about her younger years. I thought keeping the letters would help me to remember things from my past. That desire left me a long time ago. I saved a few of the letters. The vast majority of them went into the recycling bucket.
  There is one letter that deserves its own mention. I found it in a notebook. It was one that I wrote and never sent. I wrote it to an ex-boyfriend shortly after we broke up. It was a good letter. I called him a "self-important ninny" who thinks he is God. I called him out for his disrespectful treatment and wrote that all he wanted me for was arm candy. I wrote that I deserved to be treated better and that I had put up with him for far too long. I ended by telling him to enjoy his delusional little world and that I can't live that way. It was a darn fine piece of writing if I do say so myself. I thought about keeping it but decided not to. That part of my life is over.
  There was another letter in the notebook, right after the break-up letter. I wrote it to Mary, my ex-boyfriend's sister. In it, I explained to her why he was being so distant to her and her family. I also expressed concern about his growing anger towards their older brother. My ex had never liked his brother. They never got along and it was not uncommon for the pair to argue at family gatherings. I expressed concerned that the verbal battles were becoming physical. I told Mary that my ex said the only way there would ever be peace in the family is if the older brother were dead. The eerie thing is that five years after I wrote that letter the older brother was killed in a truck accident. I got rid of this letter as well.
   It feels good to be rid of all those letters. I only looked at a few. There were far too many for me to read each one. I felt grateful for all the friends I've had over the years. I hope that they are all doing well wherever they are now. I know I am.