I have been digging through the past. There was a photo I wanted to find. I have not found the photo. That is making me pretty crazy I know a lot of photos got lost, but I was pretty sure I had that one. Along with a group of photos that were all kid photos. Childhood photos. And it is nowhere to be found. That whole group of photos is nowhere to be found. I cannot find the dog photos either. They must be all together. Somewhere.
I found some old letters. Do I want to open those? No. Not really. They are all probably full of obituaries. My father is not a good communicator. He can not tell me about himself. Instead, I used to get these envelopes that held obituaries of people he had known. No letter. Just a clipping of an obit.
It seems to me a parent and child should have more to say than a clipping of an obit for someone I have never met. I am a whacky idealist that way.
I found pictures I was not expecting. An ex boyfriend. That stuck an ice pick through my heart. Oh yeah. Him. That hurt.
Journals that cover intermittent years going back to when I was what? Twelve?
[Note to self: Put it in writing these get burned if I unexpectedly die and cannot myself crawl to that trunk and toss gasoline and a match. Why do I still have these?]
And where are the damn photos?
Pieces of my past keep disappearing on me.