Sunday, January 26, 2014

Isn't life strange (that's a Moody Blues song)

Yesterday I was not feeling well, so I stayed in my pajamas all day.   I did some tidying up in my bedroom (mine and Nicks). 

There is a small pile of old camera bags with old cameras in them, leaning on the side of Nick's dresser.  I wanted to make some space for it in the closet where we keep pictures.

This closet is FULL of boxes of photographs covering our 41+ years of marriage, hundreds of thousand miles traveled, and five kids from birth to present.  I decided to take down one box.  One.  Just one.

The box I took down was not only filled with photos, which it was, but also with the kids' various school papers.   I had no idea that they were in there.  I have boxes in the basement for each kid, with their papers inside.  yet, here I was, looking at even more.  There are stories written by each of the kids.  Courtney's admission letter into TJ.   The cables back and forth between the US Consulate in Guangzhou, the Embassy, in Beijing, the Consulate in Hong Kong, and the State Department.  I have a vague recollection of the cables, but have not seen them in over 20 years, if at all.   So strange seeing  "it was good that the hellicopter was ready, even though it was not needed".  

There's a paper Morgan wrote about how he taught himself to ride a unicycle.   Letters back and forth from grandparents, and friends and other family. 

There were some adorable pictures of each of the kids.  Some in Halloween costumes.  Some just being cute and amazing and funny.   Darcy and Austin were the blondest.  Chance wrote in a school paper "Dad has brown eyes, like me"  

My life has been so full and so fun.  I have to remind myself that more often.   Each word on paper and picture is just a fraction of the wonder of the life I have lived.

I separated out the pictures from the letters and the papers.  I am [eventually] going to catalog and organize the pictures.   I don't know what I am going to do with the letters.  They mean so much to me.  Even the short notes.  They mean that someone cared enough to put pen to paper and connect.  Often across and around the world.

What to do with the letters?  Nick said that our kids and grandchildren won't be interested in them. They will probably all get thrown out when we are gone.

I feel a need to somehow preserve them.   Maybe transcribe them?  I don't know.  Something to think about.

It took me over three hours to go through one box.  And there are so many more.   I need to retire- whatever that means- so I can get this project done!

And I started knitting a hat for Chance today.

And now to bed.  The gym is calling - not literally- I am going to the gym in the morning.

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