kindling

[talonkarrde]

Sometimes it's something obvious — an ex from a long time ago moving into my city, and me remembering that I have a gift they gave me on the day of my graduation, almost a decade ago. Other times, it's more subtle: an author that wrote a short story we loved coming out with a new collection, or a mention of a specific experience with someone of a specific religion, an image of a couple kissing in the rain.

But whatever it is, invariably, it leads me to dig up a ghost of the past, find the only thing I would run back into a burning house to save. It's my most prized possession, something that I've never shared with anyone.

There's a box in my closet, a small, cardboard box with the American Eagle logo that once held a pair of boxers. Yes, boxers — with pickles on them, in fact; it was a gift from a dear friend of mine on my fourteenth or fifteenth birthday. On the box, in permanent marker, scrawled out across every empty space, is a rambling, crazy, happy birthday letter from over a decade ago, one that I smile at every time I see the box, though I haven't read the words themselves in forever.

The box is something I've kept with me across nine years, seven moves, and two coasts, and it's a fitting container for the contents inside. No, for the record, it's not a pair of boxers; I don't even know where those are anymore!

It's a collection of cards and letters, all folded up neatly, in no particular order: every letter that I've ever been given. And yes, perhaps unsurprisingly, the letters are all from those who I loved and loved me: they encompass my life from high school, through college, across the five years after and lead to where — and who — I am today. The collection varies from cute tiny micro-sized-birthday cards, still in their envelopes, to pages and pages that talk about life from states away.

I've never pulled this collection out on a whim; it's always something that sparks it, that makes me remember the author of one of those letters, that makes me want to unfold the letters again and read these perfect moments in time. Usually, it's a sadness, occasionally a sharp pain, but more often these days, an emotion called saudade.

It's a conflicting experience: It's a moment of the past, and specifically a past almost always promised a future that never came to be. And there's always a sense of loss there, a bit of wondering what could have been and should have been, and a bit of soul searching to figure out, for the umpteenth time, why it wasn't what came to be. And often, the conclusion is that it was a lesson to be learned, a flaw to be corrected, a failing in myself.

But in a way, it's the greatest gift that I could've been given. It's not only a chance to reflect and a chance to correct, but it's also a sign that I mattered: these declarations of love, these happy birthday wishes, these memories shared and remembered, these letters written, by hand, by pen, across pages and pages and dropped into a mailbox somewhere — they affirm that my life has touched and been touched by others, that we are not just islands in the sea, that we are threads of a tapestry that come together and bind to each other, at least for some time. These letters stand as a irrefutable signal that not only can we affect others, but that we do. Our actions may not matter to the universe, in the long run, but they matter to others that share our lives.

And so while I take out the box with a hint of sadness and longing, while that sadness flares into a deeper nostalgia and pain when I open it and start reading, when I put it back, I'm always reminded of another truth: I have lived my life surrounded by love. 

Comments

[reckless-blues.livejournal.com]

I like this. I feel like it's shallow, but this is why I like to give and receive gifts - it's concrete evidence that you're a part of another person's life. Someone thought about you when you were away and sacrificed something for you, money or time. Especially, because they knew you and knew what would make you happy. It's a symbol of understanding another person.

[talon.livejournal.com]

*nods* I also realized some time ago that all of my past relationships have been with writers, so I'm especially privileged to be able to read their words and thoughts. I think gifts and photos also share a lot of the attributes I remark above, but I think letters are really the closest you can get to someone's soul, so to speak, in a particular moment in time. The way they write, the things they talk about, their handwriting, even.

[jem0000000.livejournal.com]

Awww. :) This is sweet.

[talon.livejournal.com]

:)

[theun4givables.livejournal.com]

<3

[talon.livejournal.com]

<3 back atcha

[i-17bingo.livejournal.com]

This makes me smile so much.

I have one of these boxes--though for me it's a roughneck that weighs about the same as one of the Grand Tetons. And it's always a spark, exactly like you describe, that gets me to dig into it and fall into deep, comforting history.

Shit, I think I'm going to go do that now.

[talon.livejournal.com]

:D. Yeah. Much boxing to be had these last few days.

[rayaso.livejournal.com]

Very well written and enjoyable. I have also kept cards for many years, but I'm afraid I have yet to pull them out and read them. This story makes me want to do that.

[talon.livejournal.com]

I think they can be good, at the end of the day — there's a lot of emotion, a lot of stuff to work through, but I'm glad I take the time to look back on things.

[eternal-ot.livejournal.com]

Ah! A very touching piece...I like the message hidden in it..and yes I am a hoarder of that sort of things like cards, paper cuttings that I liked, Bands exchanged, cassette records...*Nostalgia Strikes*..:)..thanks for sharing this..<3

[talon.livejournal.com]

Glad you connected to it! I'm not a hoarder but default but I totally understand it now. Every item has a significance and a memory to it.

[adoptedwriter.livejournal.com]

This is sweet! I hate throwing mementos like this away. AW

[talon.livejournal.com]

:)

[halfshellvenus.livejournal.com]

I have one of those boxes, or did before our last move. Some of those letters were from my grandparents, now long gone, but some are simply from friends and have been saved all this time because regardless of where the friendship went, they capture a moment in time when it was all fiercely important. How can you let go of that?

[talon.livejournal.com]

Exactly. To have a moment frozen in time like that is such an incredible gift.

(I should write more letters to people)

[whipchick.livejournal.com]

I save all my letters in a box, too :) I miss writing real letters! Saudade is a great word - I first came across it during the week we wrote on "Jayus". So neat to see you using it here.

[talon.livejournal.com]

Yeah! I learned it a few years ago. There's so many brilliant foreign words — language is a such a beautiful thing.

[fodschwazzle.livejournal.com]

I know that feeling and had no word for it until now. Maybe I should be making such a box as well. When you dig through your past, are you often troubled enough by a ceased exchange that you begin writing to someone again? Or do the majority of these interactions fall under the realm of "human-forging events" that change too much if you touch them?

[roina-arwen.livejournal.com]

That's very sweet, to keep all those letters and cards. There have been several that I wish I'd kept years ago, but didn't. ♥

[talon.livejournal.com]

Keep all the things! At least, all the letters :)

[alycewilson.livejournal.com]

I keep letters, too, for much the same reason. I like the reflection here.

[talon.livejournal.com]

Thank you!

[tsuki-no-bara.livejournal.com]

this is really, really lovely, especially "they affirm that my life has touched and been touched by others", because isn't that why people send mail, and why people keep it? to show that someone at some point thought about them and cared about them.

(altho i admit to being slightly disappointed that you don't still have the pickle boxers. :D )