March Showers Bring April Weddings

Some of my best friends from high school, Mandy, Madie, me and Char at my wedding

Last weekend we went home to throw a bridal shower for one of my best friends from high school, Mandy. She and Carlos have been dating since high school (count 'em--8 years). Mandy is one of the friendliest people I know, so it was reallly fun to throw a shower for her with the other girls. It was also really great to get to see so many friends from high school that I haven't seen in years. I was really fortunate to have truly wonderful friends growing up. My mom said it was neat to see us grow up together because there wasn't the catiness that is common among high school girls. I think that's probably true. Though I don't see them everyday in Mr. Colclasure's English class or Mr. Englehard's math class, I still think of them sometimes and think of how much of a positive influence they had on me. I was pretty lucky.

Darwin with Grandma while we set up for the party. He was excited to flirt with all the girls, I think. :)

Ready for LOVE Bingo!



Now seems like an appropriate time to tell you about my boxes. I wrote this a while back.


A while ago I bought two plastc shoeboxes at a dollar a piece with the purpose of storing old notes, cards, and other memorabilia in them. One was for me, and one was for Michael. I transferred all the "stuff" from my old Adidas shoebox to the new plastic one. The new one is smaller, so I sorted through and dejunked a bit, trying to hold onto the things that were really most important, and realizing it was okay and time to let go of some things, too.

Today I dug out the plastic box, along with the second cardboard shoebox that I found a while ago at home and brought with me to try to sort through. I did sort through it once before, but my goal today was to get it all down to the one plastic box.

The first things I pulled out were torn-out planner pages from July 2006 which were fashioned into paper airplanes. They were from Michael, from our flirting, dating, and engaged days at BYU's Harold B. Lee Library. We used those pages for notes at devotionals, to do lists, or, most often, paper airplanes thrown at each other in the library. I know, I know. We were so so bad. Ha. :) One of them he left in the cubby for me to find when I woke up and wiped the drool off of Beowulf. The irony. It said, "You look beautiful, even in your sleep." Hehe. I still get the girl-in-love-giggles when I read it.

I found postcards to various places my family visited as kids, especially in Montana and Idaho, and just had that warm fuzzy feeling from the memory of belting out, "I wanna be a cowboy's sweetheart!" from the extended cab seat of the truck on a road trip through the beautiful big sky country.

There was a special valentine from my mom that she made look all cute with Heat-n-Bond. It is so special not only because of the note, but because I know she tried really hard to make it so cute. There are several notes from Mom, actually, including some of the simplest and best ones that just say, "Have I told you lately that I love you?" with a heart and a smiley face.

Dad's notes are particularly great to re-read. I picked up the one he sent to congratulate us on our pregnancy and couldn't help but get teary-eyed reading it, especially now having a little bit more of a taste of the loving "more than you ever did before" that he's talking about, and knowing that he felt and feels that for me.

There are notes and cards from aunts and uncles, for birthdays, for our wedding, for "just because"; notes from sweet and thoughtful cousins just shooting the breeze. They are hard to let go of because they remind me that someone was thinking of me, and how lucky I am to have people who have cared enough to let me know they were thinking of me.

There's a neon orange strip of paper from Rich that says, "Happy Birthday, Anita!" that he taped to my dorm room door in my freshmen year of college, and there's a stack of Christmas cards from George. There are "Just thinking of you" notes from Michael's parents with sticky notes that were attached to "ice cream money," and one big piggy card with googley eyes that Michael's family sent to me to say "Miss You" when I had to stay in Utah while he was home with most of them. There's my "Cajon Graduate" silver pin from one of my students, and a whole-heart-in-it note that only a teenager could write from another student. There's the special note from one of the Rancho youth that we received in our mailbox when we checked our mail before dropping off the key and driving away for the last time from our California apartment. There are notes from high school friends, neighbors, and teachers that make me laugh out loud and feel like a million bucks. There are many things that only have value to me, but that are of tremendous worth to me, all the same, from many different people, places, and times.


I wonder to myself how I will ever ditch enough of these things to fit it all in the one plastic shoebox. The answer is, I won't. Not today, anyway. I wonder, Why not? Why are these things so hard for me to let go of? Some of the people they represent I've lost contact with and haven't spoken to in years.


And I think that's why it's hard to let go. Because all of these things represent someone special who influenced my life in a positive way, who shaped me, who inspired me to be a better person. Though I don't keep in contact with all the people "in the boxes," I remember them. I feel happy when I think of them. And I am so very grateful that they have been a part of my life.

If you're reading this, you're in the box.

Thanks.