One of the interesting things about visiting my parent's house is that you never know what you will find...if I ever wonder why I studied archaeology I just have to start excavating the bookshelves and counters of my childhood home. Don't get me wrong, the house is kept clean--just everything else is kept too (sorry Mom if you are reading this, but you know it is true)!
This time I found a letter my sister wrote home from summer camp in the early 70's. And on top of bookshelves in the den was an envelope, in my handwriting, filled with all the letters I wrote to my parents when I lived in England in the early 90's. Actually, I will probably never have such keepsakes--my coworker Deb, whose daughter is living in Japan this year, gets frequent emails but I don't think anything handwritten, so who knows how we will be communicating by the time Julian is old enough for such adventures.
Every time I visit I also debate what to bring back with me. I pull a pile of books off the shelf and usually put most of them back, or find an old toy or trinket, which I eventually decide is best left in Fort Worth, for another stroll down memory lane on a future visit.
This time I found a letter my sister wrote home from summer camp in the early 70's. And on top of bookshelves in the den was an envelope, in my handwriting, filled with all the letters I wrote to my parents when I lived in England in the early 90's. Actually, I will probably never have such keepsakes--my coworker Deb, whose daughter is living in Japan this year, gets frequent emails but I don't think anything handwritten, so who knows how we will be communicating by the time Julian is old enough for such adventures.
Every time I visit I also debate what to bring back with me. I pull a pile of books off the shelf and usually put most of them back, or find an old toy or trinket, which I eventually decide is best left in Fort Worth, for another stroll down memory lane on a future visit.
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