The Junk Drawer

The impending move has prompted me to clean up my childhood room. The other day I started with my closet and ended with my junk drawer. Although I thought the closet would be much tougher to sort through, it was the junk drawer that I struggled with.

My junk drawer is the first drawer to my dresser. The drawer is long and thin, perfect for holding pictures, cards, letters, and other random items. It is an accumulation of memories and pieces of my personal history and random paraphernalia. My own personal time capsule.

The trip down memory lane dates as far back to elementary school. Specifically, my bedazzled address book filled with the names of every kid I had a class with - whether we were friends or not. I suppose that is an elementary school thing. If your mom was in any way like mine, you went to every birthday party you were invited to and invited every girl in the class to your birthday party...regardless if they were "cool" or not. I remember the names and faces, some stories about them, and some memories which made me smile and think "what ever happened to [insert name here]?". Its a weird thing, elementary school, because that group of non judgemental friends changes the moment you step into junior high.

This was the best thing I found: my NOW i.d. card. NOW was the every Friday night dance party at one of the schools in the district. You were not cool if you did not go to NOW. Sixth graders getting their groove on with eighth graders. Meeting the people we'd see again in three years at the high school - a little preview if you will. It was part dance, part basketball, and mostly running around with boys. The perfect mix. This was pre-boozing fun. Honest & pure. But looking back at my i.d. card I realized why I always was just "the buddy" of the group - damn was I an ugly duckling! Having grunge be the trend while going through puberty was the likely culprit. Thank you Seattle.

I found pay stubs from my high school gig at the local restaurant. This was great a great job - I worked with all college kids and they loved me. It probably had something to do with the whole jail bait thing. They were essential to getting my party on. They would buy me booze - boxes full of every kind on a semi-monthly basis. There were photos from dances, from football games and parties with friends. Luckily the friends I made in high school remain my closest and dearest friends to this day. Thumbing through the pictures I can see how much we've changed and grown. Its a warm-fuzzy knowing these memories will never be lost since we have each other to keep them alive. Its a blessing. And something that I am grateful for every day.

Sifting through the drawer I finally came to the love letters from the ex. Mixed emotions bubbled up in my chest and for a moment I felt ill. Sad. I was nervous to look at them, let alone touch and open them up to read. Although there weren't many, most written on birthday and valentine's day cards, I had to stop and contemplate what would I do with these now. These heart felt sentaments and memories of how we once loved each other - do they go into the trash? Do you purge these as you did with the bad memories? Aren't they worth more than that?

I ended up reading the letters multiple times, smiling and perhaps letting a tear fall here and there for what used to be and what could have been. I put them off to the side in the undecided section. Should they stay or should they go? I came across other items which were momentos of things we had done: champaigne cork, theater and concert tickets, a brochure. Things I had kept to remember the moments from the very intimate to the very fun. More memories of love and adoration flooded my mind. It was confusing. I know I'm over him. Over our relationship. But coming face to face to what used to be - the love, the adoration, the fun - was overwhelming.

In the end I only kept the i.d.'s and pictures. Everything else got thrown out. What's done is done. There is no more "us". There is no more reason to keep these momentos as there is no longer the idea of a future family to share them with.

I have learned that the junk drawer holds everything but.