Memory lane - Part IV

Read from Part 1

Somewhere (almost 30 years) deep in a landfill is a box of letters. Well, I doubt there is much left of them after all this time. This was about a year's worth of correspondence from the boyfriend of my senior year in high school.

Those were the days before email and before unlimited long distance calling plans. He was in college over 400 miles away most of that year. When he wasn't, he was only 300 miles away at home. It was a lovely time in my life, and I loved our correspondence - long, newsy, sweet letters, about one for each week. Plus cards for special occasions.

I treasured those, so much so that I pulled them out to read daily for months after he broke up with me. Then I realized I had to let go. I knew I was in danger of never recovering from that breakup unless those letters were gone. It took a couple of attempts before I could finally let the garbage truck take them away.

Fast-forward to a few weeks ago, when I started packing for my move. I started in what I knew would be the the most difficult spot - a little oriental cabinet where the last of the Daniel memorabilia had resided undisturbed since my last move. It was finally time to say goodbye to most of that.

First, I read through every sympathy card. Many tears, a few laughs and a couple of who is that?s later and I was done. The only thing left from that pile is a note from my brother, a man of few words who wrote that tears "wash the soul clean and make our hearts open to life's joy". I wouldn't part with that piece of paper ever.

But then there were the letters...my letters to Daniel during our friendship and courtship, and his to me. Not a whole lot of them, as he was not much of a writer so I didn't write much either. Re-reading my letters to him was like looking at a history book of me - my feelings, my hopes, my busy days - in my own hand. The fact that he used the back of one to calculate how much outside lighting would cost to run for an hour (37 cents) doesn't make me think he didn't treasure that letter. He kept it, didn't he?

But it is time to say goodbye to those letters as well. He's been gone almost as long as we were married. And moving on is what this year seems to be all about for me.

My mother didn't have many opportunities to give me advice. One thing I clearly remember her telling me is to be very careful what I put in a letter, because you never know where it will end up. That was good advice. But I am so glad I never let her words prevent me from expressing my true feelings on the page to the people I loved. For me, writing is still sometimes easier than verbal expression.

My memories of Daniel are fading, and that is alright. We can't live in our memories, even the good ones. We have to live in the present. And when we do, today becomes a memory for tomorrow.