Letter boxes

In some kind of attempt to tidy my room today, I sat on my bedroom floor with a shoebox filled with old letters. The box has become over-full and wasn't really doing a very good job of containing these various missives. Since I've recently bought some new shoes, I decided that all my postcards will get a box of their own and I would have a quick sift through the letters I have -- just to see if there are any that don't need to be kept.

It's a very strange feeling revisiting the past by way of old letters. It's like a form of archaeology, digging through the layers and discovering details about how a life was lead.

There were all the letters I received from Kath over the years -- from the very first pages she wrote to me when I advertised for a penpal, letters written on coloured paper and in colourful envelopes. Song lyrics written on the back of envelopes or heading the tops of pages. I didn't read the letters again, although sometimes I would have to unfold pages to see who the letter was from. There was pictures from festivals, pictures of nights in pubs. I found a small pack of black and white photographs, dating back to the time I stayed with her for a weekend when I was 17. Old pictures of Manchester, pictures of people sat on the grass in the sun. I've considered throwing away all of these letters from Kath before -- we've previously fallen out and even though our differences were resolved we've grown apart. I could find her online on things like Facebook and MySpace, but we aren't friends. Just the same, I keep the letters. I found a small piece of paper, folded like a card. What year it was I don't know, but it was a makeshift valentie's card from Kath "just in case" I didn't get one.

I found a couple of cards from a girl named Jo I knew at school when I was 18. There was a card she gave me when I left for uni, and I could remember feeling sad reading it at the time -- that she was clearly sad I was going away and she would miss me, and for a second no time had passed and I was still there. I found another card and a short letter she had sent me at university. I guess we eventually dropped out of contact, I've no idea where she is any more.

Going up through the layers to the years I was at university there were various letters from Fi, filled with romantic sentiments and longing. I was struck now by how young she was then. I was young myself, only 18 and in my first year at university -- envelopes addressed to my rooms in halls in Derby. There's been times since when I've been in Derby and I have stood in the street outside my old halls of residence and looked up at what had been my bedroom. I can only spot my room from the first year, but if I stood in the street at the back of the building I could also see the kitchen we shared. I could remember how together we covered almost an entire wall of the kitchen with postcards, the same walls now blank. I had letters from Fi talking about plans for New Year's Eve in 1999, and postcards sent when she was on holiday in France. Even later, there were letters sent to me in Utah. Much fewer letters than the early ones.
I know in the end I broke her heart, but at least we're still friends.

I found a single page of a letter from my Mum when I was in Utah. I couldn't find any more than the end of the letter, where she was asking me what I did with my time in the evenings and at weekends and if I saw any of the boys I had travelled out with.

It's a very strange feeling to find old birthday cards or cards of congratulations on passing my exams and going to university from now-deceased relatives or family friends. Even this year I got a birthday card that my aunt had apparently bought for me before she died, she knew she wouldn't still be here but she had selected cards to be sent just the same.

Here and there were scruffy letters from Jon sent to me at university, just short notes in his illegible writing that he'd include with compilation tapes he sent me.

After the letters in Utah there comes new contacts. Smart envelopes containing cards and written in San's neat script, correspondence between us at our universities and our homes. The smell of the paper reminding me of the musty passageway at my house in Derby, between the front door of the house and a door to the street. The way the door clattered when you slammed it shut, the smell of Rie's cigarettes.

There was a card I didn't recognise, sent to a university halls address. I had to look at the return address on the envelope to see it was from a girl named Amelia that Rie was friends with in Utah, we'd met twice or something and Rie had told her I had a crush on her. We had a very brief correspondence for a short while when I'd come back, but as these things went the gaps got longer and longer until one of us didn't reply. But this card was sent later. This was from the summer of my final year, after all of Matt and Rie's fighting and I'd had a bit of a breakdown and stayed in Derby for the summer to write my dissertation. We'd all moved out of the house, and I'd taken a room in halls for the summer. This card I don't remember ever seeing before was from Amelia, telling me to hang in there, not to give up on myself. I was touched by the sentiment, that although we barely knew each other she was clearly a little worried about me. If it wasn't for the fact the envelope was open, I'd wonder if I had ever read the card before.

Later there was a postcard from Rie of a Van Gogh print -- commenting on the back that it was a safer card this time -- since she once sent to my home a postcard of a half-naked fireman, and pretended it was from a gay lover. My parents had freaked, and I still don't think they really believe me that there really wasn't any gay lover.

That still takes us back almost 5 years now. More recently there are packages sent from Australia, large padded envelopes and neatly written letters tucked inside, sent from cities and streets I've never known. There's Christmas cards and birthday cards, postcards from all over the world -- the postcards now living in a narrow converse shoebox, cards sent by San when she was studying in the USA, Postcrossing missives from around the world, cards sent by various friends who know how I love the pictures and the dreams they offer.

Only a very small pile of letters and cards didn't make the grade. Almost everything went back into the box, still pushing at the lid. All the letters and memories to be kept for other days, and joined by more.