Thursday, August 22, 2013

my name is rachel and i'm a hoarder


"...hi rachel."

The last week of my life has been dedicated to many important things. Reading Harry Potter duh. trekking to Provo for a few days of work, singing to Katy Perry's new single, working out phone and money stuff for Ukraine like a pro, eating Oreos, having dishrag whipping wars with Caroline oh i lost bad. and have the welt to prove it trying sushi for the first time in my life holla!, and sleeping at ridiculous hours. 

I've also gone through all of my possessions at least three times, trying to get rid of clothes that I didn't even remember existed, figuring out just how many different hair softening products I need, and debating whether I will ever want to don that ring from 7th grade that has googly eyes embedded in it. i mean, maybe? I've given away bags of clothes and have sufficiently organized my jewelry into what could pass as acceptable apparel for my age. Maybe.

But the one thing I cannot and will not give away? Notes. Letters. Tickets. Valentines. Birthday greetings. Anything that anyone has ever written me. I will go through my box of cards every year, trying to see what I could throw out in an attempt to streamline my hoard, but every time I keep them all. And it's because I read them all. And I smile and I tear up and I laugh and I remember and I put that little piece of paper right back where it was.

I remember the cards I have thrown out in previous years, when I lost all sense of nostalgia and sentiment for an hour and went on a recycling rampage. I regret those rampages already because I miss all those little notes and encouragement and tokens of love.

So, if you have ever written me one of those things, thank you. Whether you signed it, left it anonymous, wrote on the back of a napkin or folded it into a swan, I kept it. And it still means so much to me.

peace and cheetos

rrw





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