Brooke was never one to throw things away. She always kept
the smallest bit of wrapping paper, newspaper clipping, ribbon or ticket stub –
if only for the nostalgic value that she anticipated the object someday giving.
In that way, she’d accumulated a collection of greeting cards over the years –
mostly because she didn’t have the heart to recycle them. The cards were given
to her from a variety of people throughout her life. Ridding herself of the
cards would show her disinterest or lack of appreciation for these people, she
reasoned.
Throughout the last ten or so years, she’d kept all cards,
no matter how small, in a plastic waterproof container under her bed – to
prevent water, rodent or pest damage to her precious memories. In the last few weeks, she’d received
various letters, cards and photo cards and had been adding them to her
collection – so much so that container was beginning to bulge when she forced
the lid atop it. One Saturday
morning, as she opened the box to place in a newly received postcard from her
friend in Switzerland, she decided it was time to have a look at the memories
from over the years.
Sprawling out on the living room carpet, she poured the
contents of the box on to the floor. The cards seemed to have a mind of their
own as they slid off one another in all directions, exiting the box. Brooke carefully spread them across the
floor and sat down on one of the pile, coffee in hand, preparing for a long
afternoon of reminiscing. It was raining outside anyhow.
She picked up card from the pile. A cartoon alligator
staring up at a smiling sun adorned the front, with the caption ‘Thinking of
you makes me smile”. Opening the
card, she saw it was from her mother. No date, but her mom had written a note
of praise and mentioned $5 was on the gift card that was no longer in the card.
Must be from my college, years Brooke thought – even though her mother
continued to send gift cards via the US Postal Service. Not that she needed
them now. Brooke was well employed at a downtown firm, good benefits, great
coworkers. She could pay her own rent, her seemingly endless student loans and
still have enough left over for a beer or two. Still, Brooke remembered the
times her mother had sent gift cards – even if for a simple cup of coffee and
she smiled.
Next card in the pile: an Easter card with the word
‘granddaughter’ on the front. On the inside was a simple Easter greeting and
her grandmother’s very characteristic handwriting. Brooke had always thought it
interesting the kind of cards she’d received from her grandma. The cards were
always simple, always Hallmark brand (she did care enough to send the very
best!) and grandma never added any extra comments. She liked to let the card
speak for itself, which Broke admired. Grandma always included a date as well,
which was handy for tracking life events, Brooke thought. She found her
grandmother’s handwriting comforting in the moment. Her grandmother had passed
on a few years back and this was the first time she’d seen it since.
Amidst the pile, Brooke spotted a
few smaller colorful cards. They looked like they’d been handmade out of
construction paper. She gathered them from the pile and amassed them in front
of her. Picking through them she saw they were from a dear college friend who enjoyed
crafting her own cards. She too, had an easily distinguishable handwriting.
For most of the afternoon, Brooke
dove into this pile of cards, a veritable sea of memories. Christmas cards
dating as far back as first year of college, birthday cards, Halloween cards,
graduation cards from college, thank you cards, post cards, letters from her
pen pal across seas. She didn’t read the full messages in each, but the ones
she did read brought her back. She couldn’t help shedding a few tears reading
the caring and thoughtful messages she’d received when her grandmother had
passed. She smiled at the funny and often inappropriate birthday cards her
crazy girl friends had sent her. She was grateful for the kind messages she’d
received from her aunt who lived across town. Brooke was glad she had saved
these things – and knew she’d want to revisit them. It’s as if she had saved
the important events of her life and stored them in a box.
Brooke noticed a pattern: many of
the same names kept appearing in the cards. While she’d met many people in her
life, it appeared that those most important made their care known via mail.
Snail mail. Pony Express. Precursor to email, Google, chat or Skype, the
classic Hallmark or handcrafted greeting cards had always meant the most to
Brooke. And they still do, she decided.
Reflecting back on the years since
began her collection, she realized that her life had been blessed by those in
this box. Those people who, as Hallmark would say, “Care enough to send the
very best.” She loved her cards, she loved her friends and family – though she
knew it was time to give up some of these physical memories. It warmed her
heart to see these messages once again, but she knew she was ready to move forward
as well.
Placing a brown paper bag in front
of her lap, she began the tedious task of reducing the amount of cards in her
enormous stack. She began placing
cards in the bag one by one. And with each card gone, she felt a little
lighter, a little happier - not because the size of her card collection caused
her stress, but because she knew that these memories now lived on in her heart.
And all she could do was smile.
