Scraps of Paper

This time of year is one that makes me nostalgic, it never fails. Each year I dig into the back of the closet, piss off all the spiders, sneeze from all the dust and pull them out.

You know what I’m talking about don’t you? Yep, the boxes containing the items left or given to me by members of my family.

These boxes contain trinkets, baubles, pictures and other various items which tell the story of my family.  My favorite treasures are the Scraps of Paper all neatly saved inside envelopes. The first time I sorted through the boxes I just glanced over them and dismissed them to go through later. Now they are the first things that I reach for on my yearly quest to “remember when”.

I have found that these scraps of paper are actually the key to who my family was. They contain handwritten notes, receipts, song verses, poetry, bad jokes, sarcastic retorts (which could only have been written by someone who dared not say their thoughts out loud) and there are even some pretty good doodles and cartoons drawn on them.

I love to look at the handwriting on the pages, to see the ebb, flow and curl of the letters and words. I often recognize the writing and remember the person who wrote it and the times we spent together.

Both my Grandmother and Mother were huge “Scribblers”; they were never without a pad by their sides. They were also packrats, so I now have all those pads. When I read their random thoughts I can hear their voices and I miss them just a little less because I can feel them with me.

Usually I end up in tears on the floor, surrounded by memories with a tiny smile on my face.

I pack each and every Scrap of Paper away carefully until next year, when right before Christmas I will read them again and spend some time with my family.