Last night as I was winding down and getting ready to go to bed a thought popped in my head. Hey, where are all those shoeboxes full of love notes, letters, and pictures from my past? I knew I should have left them alone, but something compelled me to find them. Full of anticipation I trudged upstairs and started searching my old room. I soon found what I was looking for on top of the closet, way in the back, buried under piles of crap.<\/p>\n
My heart was pounding in my chest as I brought all six boxes downstairs to my cave. I stared at the Birkenstock box, knowing exactly what was in it, wondering if I should really look inside. This was the Joy box. Maybe I shouldn’t do this. I poured myself a cup of decaf coffee and watched the steam swirl and rise. I put in a dip of Copenhagen and let the nicotine take affect. Then I opened the box, both literally and figuratively.<\/p>\n
Reading all the old letters in chronological order. Getting pissed, angry. Looking at the evidence with fresh eyes. Jesus, she was so fucking manipulative. Oh my god, I can’t believe she wrote that! Fucking cunt. Next box.<\/p>\n
The Julie box. Bleah. I only read a few letters. Next box.<\/p>\n
The random box. This one had letters I had written but never sent, funny stuff from when me and the guys were bored in class, drawings, all kinds of silly stuff. Next box.<\/p>\n
Hey, this is the Boot Camp box! I saved all the letters my friends and family sent me. Some of them were pretty funny. I’m in a much better mood now. This last box has to be the picture box.<\/p>\n
Yep, picture box. It was filled with all the photos I’d collected over the years. Everything was here, up to when I bought my first digital camera and stopped using film. Pictures from Japan, Singapore, Australia, Mexico, Yosemite, Santa Cruz, Las Vegas, Hawaii, Hong Kong–all my adventures. I picked out the best ones and set them aside.<\/p>\n
This morning I got to work scanning.<\/p>\n