Remembering

Years pass, it’s what they do.

I’ve stumbled upon a handful of personal fossils this weekend. I like to think it’s part of my desire to document everything, but really, I’m a pack-rat. It’s the truth. I’ve gotten better over the years, but still keep way too many things. But, occasionally I find something very special that I probably would have tossed out years ago and I relish in my pack-rat tendencies, thankful for finding it.

Victoria spent our freshman year of high school living in Oregon with her mom. She had called me one afternoon when she was walking somewhere, maybe home from school. I don’t remember exactly. She told me she picked me a flower and I was thankful for this flower she had picked from hundreds of miles away. It was a lovely sentiment. Many weeks passed and school ended. I went with her family to pick her up from the airport. On the car ride home she handed me  a piece of notebook paper, folded the official way fifteen year-olds fold their notes to each other.

This is what she handed me and I have kept over the years.

“Hey do you remember when I was talking to you on da phone and I picked you a flower? Well here it is!”

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