by Emma Lawson
Published on: Aug. 29, 2015
It’s a thought-provoking question that doesn’t have a straightforward answer. I’ve always been someone who saves, often excessively. My tendency to hoard documents leads me to keep everything “just in case.” Just in case what, exactly? A copy of my tax return from 1995? An electric bill from 1993? Evidence that I visited the optometrist in 1997?
My daughter began shredding the stack of papers. The sound of the shredder was music to my ears! But then, something caught my attention—a letter addressed to my husband: “Dear Mark, your student loan has been settled.” I remembered him sitting at our kitchen table in our first apartment, writing that check shortly after we got married.
“Here,” I said, handing a document to my daughter. Vvvrrr. I watched her shred away, curious about what other treasures lay hidden in that pile. After a few minutes, I couldn’t resist any longer.
“Wait!” I exclaimed, spotting a cluster of receipts. One was for copies made at a local store, another for faxes sent from a nearby pharmacy, and one for an answering machine. Who even leaves home to make copies anymore? Do people still use faxes?
I picked up a bill with a preschool’s name on it, and memories flooded back—dropping off my little one for class, bending down to hug her tightly before she entered the room. Now, it’s me reaching up for a hug.
“Can I get back to this?” my daughter asked, glancing at the remaining pile.
“Soon.”
Oh! A check stub for $303 from a radio contest where I answered the question: “What never stops growing?” Answer: “Your nose.” And here was a pay stub from the trade magazine where I worked in my late twenties. My boss at the time thought I’d hit it off with a reporter and set me up to cover a press conference on his arrival. Two years later, I married Mark. The job had long hours, low pay, and stress, but it led me to a wonderful husband.
Nearby lay a yellowing receipt from the vet for our tiger-striped cat who passed away 12 years ago, alongside a $20 receipt from the SPCA for the tiny black-and-white kitten we adopted shortly after.
So many papers! What should I keep? I pondered what would happen if I weren’t around to sort through these documents. Would anyone care? Would I want someone else to sift through each paper to determine its significance? That thought left me feeling down, so I redirected my focus to the present. I reminded myself that as long as the papers remain, so do my memories. Each paper transports me back in time, just like a photograph. I would never part with my pictures, but the sheer volume of papers is overwhelming, and I must declutter.
“Mom’s at it again!” my daughter called to Mark, glancing at the pile of documents, eagerly awaiting her $5.
“Okay,” I replied. “You can have these.” Vvvrrr.
However, as she inserted the next paper, I clutched the remaining stack to my chest, ensuring none slipped away, and walked off. Perhaps the next time I feel the urge to declutter, these documents will find their way to the shredder. But for now, I’m holding on to them—and the memories they evoke—just a little longer.
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Summary
This reflective piece captures a mother’s internal struggle with the clutter of memories represented by papers she has saved over the years. As she navigates the sentimental value of each document, she contemplates their importance and what it means for her family’s future. The narrative weaves together moments from her past, emphasizing the emotional ties we have to objects and the challenge of letting go.
Keyphrase
My Life in Paper Trails
Tags
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