Memories... All Alone in the Basement

One of the side effects to my mother FINALLY moving out of the four bedroom house she's currently sharing with two cats is that she is bringing boxes to store at my house until she moves. And some of those boxes are going to end up staying.

When I moved into my townhouse, I took the vast majority of things from her house that were mine. But there were still a few boxes hiding here and there. Like all my cabbage patch kids, which she washed up and put in a nice plastic tote for me to store until Luke is a little older.

And then there were the two boxes of mine conveniently labeled 'Memories'. I'm not sure what struck me, but I decided to start going through some of these memories yesterday and clearing them out. First, there were the letters. Three shoeboxes full of letters from friends who wrote to me after I moved from New Jersey to Illinois in seventh grade. Every single one of them. I chose to throw out the letters from people I've lost touch with, but I kept those of Mandy and Beffy (ah, childhood nicknames). Hear that? I have ALL your letters. Maybe someday I'll sit down and read them again.

Next, there were the random writings. I have always liked to write (thus, the blog) but was overly dramatic as a child/adolescent. At least in my head. I found a two sheet summary expressing my aching, longing love for what I considered to be, at the time, my 'first love'. And my response now?

WHO? Though I had written his first name, I could not picture who I was talking about. Let me clarify - I didn't date until college, so this wasn't someone I actually went out with or anything. Just someone I was friends with and developed a crush on. And have now completely forgotten.