postcards.
A few days ago Kevin and I sat ourselves down in the spare room and forced ourselves to sift through boxes and bookshelves, crammed with so many things and memories we had been packing, unpacking, and packing again every time we move. While we're pretty good about throwing away things we really don't need (I cringe every time I see a preview for the show "Hoarders," and I've never been able to watch a complete episode), there was a lot of physical and emotional weight to lose. Notebooks from high school, textbooks from college, silly notes and photographs from so many roommates. The Chiquita banana keychain my father had given me got to stay, and so did a Coke bottle from Italy, but a stack of coasters went into the junk pile along with a handful of floppy disks. Kevin had to confront a tall pile of music books, while my biggest challenge was a stack of boxes full of cards. I've always loved saving cards. As a sensitive person, a writer, and a very devot...