Notes are my favorite way to document personal history. I have shoebox-sized tubs of notes from middle school, high school and college. Notes of encouragement, notes of "this Latin class is boring" and "my new boyfriend is so cute." I love peeking into the past by reading those notes!
The history of my relationship with B is kept in a box of notes, too. My first note to him was a thank you for having a group of our friends over to watch the Super Bowl just after he moved to Columbia from Clemson. I'd recently set him up with a friend of mine and we concocted a reason to have a party at his place so they could have a chance to hang out. (The irony!)
He kept that note, in its envelope, along with every letter that followed. (And there were many...) Our grandkids will probably enjoy a written record of our getting to know each other; that's my hope, at least. It's full of timely references to the little, everyday details of our lives we're bound to forget over the years.
I still keep all of our anniversary and Christmas cards, too; my absolute favorite is the Valentine's Day card from Bradley just days after we found out we were expecting. Definitely history-worthy.
Not all of our written exchanges are meant to be kept for posterity's sake, though. Yesterday Bradley got a terse email from me, as his cell phone wasn't getting reception in Podunk, South Carolina where he was looking over a new project site. Thank goodness his BlackBerry works no matter where he roams.
We'd been emailing about dinner details (the excitement of married life!) when I wrote one last email, typing with one hand and rocking a crying baby with the other.
It read: "Babe, Mac was strapped into his swing but fell out somehow. Hanging by his arm with head on the ground. Happened like four minutes ago. Leaving for doctor now. I think he's fine but want to be safe. Please call when you can. Love you!"
B's white truck was on the interstate headed our way in no time! Thankfully, Mac is absolutely fine after his fearless swan dive from the swing to the hardwood floor. The boy was upside down when I got to him. He nearly gave his mom a heart attack! Mac adores his swing and the view out of our dining room windows, but I think he's officially outgrown it.
Hopefully this is the last note of the kind I'll have to write to Bradley. Let's just pretend that boys get calmer and less rough and tumble as they grow up, ok? I'm not ready to imagine anymore bumps or bruises...
Five On Friday!
10 hours ago