I stooped down, wondering. The last desk we'd looked at had contained a stash of forgotten children's drawings. Sure, when they're donated all the desks' drawers are opened and emptied, but sometimes, things fall. Bits and pieces that would only be discovered if the bottom drawer was removed; the space behind it like a miniature time capsule of random relics.
Emboldened by my earlier find, I decided to try my luck again. The bottom right drawer slipped out easily, and there, tucked in the back were yellowed pieces of history.
There were song lyrics, bills, and scraps with phone numbers, it all seemed to be from the early 1970s. Then I saw the letter.
"Dear ___,
I am terribly sorry to have been so bitter towards you. You hurt me very much by going to bed with some-one else. At least it was easier finding out this way.
I don't blame you for having other men, you really should you know. So I'm going to apologize. Your still the same beautiful person you've always been. Welcome to the human race.
Love,
___"
My friend wandered back over, and I stuttered out, "I found this, well its, this, this letter, just here."
She read it over and her eyes widened, "Wow, I can't even imagine, what it would mean to get a letter like this, if someone wrote this to me."
That it might have been lost forever (either the new owner of the desk would never even know it was there, they might just throw the "junk" papers away after cleaning it out, or who knows, maybe treasured them like I did) made me think of all the other things out there, things loved, unfound, and unshared. Mementos no one knows exists, bits and pieces just waiting to be discovered.
I love those bits; the grocery list left in my shopping cart with that one obscure item; the crumpled homework paper with doodles dancing around the numbers; the torn up parking ticket drifting down the sidewalk.
Like a match, lighting up one fragmented and highly subjective view of one person's life at one precise moment in time.
