My life in a box

There it is. My life in a box. Some of it - that is. I stored all of my memories up until the age of 27 in this giant, dilapidated cardboard box. This box has been with me as I moved away from my childhood home in Georgetown, to my 2 dorms in San Marcos, to my first apartment, then my second and then to both homes. The contents include 5th birthday cards from my grandparents to the very first emails I ever received from Mark. (Even before I scrapbooked, I was a memory junky and had the good sense to hold on to what I considered to be emotionally valuable.)

Other fun stuff in there:

* The last check my mom wrote me still in its original Valentine's Day card from 1995

* A few really raunchy love letters that I can't bare to part with.

* Notes passed between friends in Jr. High

* Elementary through high school report cards

* My "baby names" list started when I was 11

And that list is just from memory. I haven't looked inside there in years. So now, I leave the sanctity of my computer to dive into its contents with my ipod serving as accompaniment. My memories are rotting inside that box. The contents must be sorted, purged and what's left, preserved.

Here I go.

Update one hour later: I am so glad that I lived my adolesence pre-email. The handwritten letters I am rediscovering melt my heart and instantly transport me back to that time and place. Emails will never replace the uniqueness of handwriting.