Most of the things bring a smile—like my picture from the first grade and oodles of my school work. Other things, however, leave me sighing and feeling sad. So many of my "treasures" remind me of what was lost after divorce storms came ashore.
First was my sister's divorce, after 26 years of marriage—another blog for another day. And then came my own in 2002.
Some ex-wives might have pitched any reminders by now, but the way I see it, these tangible pieces are part of who I am. Good, bad or ugly, they help tell the story of me: A girl named Gayle, who married a guy named Charles in 1982.
From there, the years rushed by, and the stash of treasures grew.
One bin. Two bins. Three bins. Four.
Part of me feels silly keeping the keepsakes, year, after year, after year. But another part of me—the schmaltzy part, I guess—hopes future generations will care enough to rummage through it all one day and discover things they never knew...about a girl named Gayle, who married a guy named Charles in 1982. ♦