A Box of Memories
For the past 2 years, I walked in and out of the basement to the car and passed an old, musty leather suitcase wrapped in that airport plastic hoping that it’s just an apparition I saw. This suitcase was brought over all the way from Istanbul; its contents were about a hundred audio cassette tapes that belonged to my DH in his more youthful long haired days (and one old, smelly, torn jacket from the 80’s – lets not even go there). I begged and pleaded for him not to drag miles of audio tape across the ocean, that he would never listen to them and where the heck would we put it? He, being the sentimental person he is, said those tapes (and the jacket) had memories and he had to keep them. The suitcase resided at my mom’s house for some time…out of site, out of mind. A couple of years ago she said that it had to go and in the basement it went. I had high hopes that DH would open it and organize its contents in a safe place because these were very important after all. Much to my dismay, the bag just sat there until last week when I bought some bins to house the prized cassettes and threw out the luggage once and for all. Upon opening the circa 1970’s suitcase, among the many cassettes stood an old shoe box. Inside the shoe box were all the letters I had written him when we were long distance dating, all the pictures I had sent, even the envelopes they came in. It was quite surreal to see the words I had written 10 years ago on stationary I had picked right back in my own hands and so comforting to know that he kept all of it.
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