I Found A Time Capsule in My Closet

I am still (I'll never be done at this rate) on my cleaning rampage.  I get distracted.  I start wandering around in circles.  I get stumped.  I want to throw away everything.  I want to throw away nothing.

I came across a slim silver colored cardboard box on top of another box in the back corner of the enormous closet in our children's bathroom.  I had no idea what was inside.

It was full of wedding cards.  Wedding cards?!  This is ridiculous, I thought.  I have moved these cards from Nevada to Utah to Connecticut to California to Washington?!?  Wedding cards?

I decided to quickly glance through them and pull out the ones with precious grandma handwriting.  There's no accounting for the emotional reaction I have to seeing "I love you" written in either of my dear grandmothers' hand.

I sat on the floor and spread the cards around me.  I was unemotional.  I sorted quickly, skimming the cards.  I set aside a pile of Adam's family members and a different pile of his friends and neighbors.  I'd let him decide which he wanted to keep (if any).

Then I got a little deeper in the pile.

And a little deeper into trouble.

I got to the cards from my family and friends.

Some of them were beautiful and embossed and chosen with care.  Some of them were on scraps of wrapping paper folded over.  Some simply had "Best Wishes" or "Congratulations" written on them.  Some of them included heartfelt missives of love.  There were notes from school teachers, neighbors, people that are no longer living, couples that are no longer together.  It was a time capsule of almost 16 summers ago.

Seeing the cards transported me to an August full of promise and anticipation.  It reminded me of who I was then; who mattered to me.

What to do with piles (and piles) of cards from people wishing me a long and happy marriage, wishing me joy, reminding me of the care and love they put into the first 22 years of my life?

Stack them back into the slim silver colored cardboard box and put them carefully back on the top shelf in the back corner.

There's a certain amount of sacredness associated with that kind of love.

Who am I to toss it away?