Aesopian x

Boxes

Packed my cupboard on a whim (and out of need) and I opened the 2 boxes where I put all the notes, letters and trinkets I’ve received. I always knew I liked to hoard stuff, but I never knew I kept air tickets, booklets of events I organized, some movie stubs.. and even scraps of paper which people used to write stuff on for me. It was cathartic to read all these words from years ago, with nostalgia jolting me as I saw the years signed off under the sender’s name… It was so long ago.

The words were all child-like and happy, bringing me back to a time where things were rosy and mad and if times weren’t good, they went away as quickly as they came. Some letters surprise me solely because of their senders. Some people I (still) never would’ve imagined wrote me a card or two, or have even given me gifts. The more hilarious ones was Sihong’s card written entirely in German — 7 years on, I am still clueless. Or Zhuowen’s enormous Christmas card, which I opened and found a massive amount of blank space in it, save for tiny handwriting at the very bottom of the card wishing me Merry Christmas and admitting I’m his best friend. Or this anonymous, very poetic person that folded a crane, and wrote: Whenever you fall, pick something up. Or letters filled with little notes from people I have ever been a mentor to or an acquaintance with. Or a card from the UK. Or hilarious “angels” who tried to be mysterious — male ones are the funniest.

Of course there are the usual suspects filling up most of those boxes, people whom have been with me every step of the way (even till now). It is incredible to be holding a piece of the past, and I do wonder what kind of person I was, what handwriting did I have, in the letters and cards I’ve ever written, now lying in similar boxes in someone else’s cupboard.

What opening these boxes reminded me of was that we were so young and so free. Of course there are the special few letters that brought a little sourness in my nose — this inexplicable urge to cry. Am I feeling pity for those times that no longer are? Perhaps I am touched, because what we had was truly amazing, it was as if it was straight out of a fairytale and into reality. Nostalgia doesn’t sugar coat or diminish my memories, I remember things as they were as I read and felt what I did years ago. For a split moment there is this desperate longing to be 16 or 17 again, because we all are now, such different people from who we were then. Now we have a little crack in our soul, a little darkness in our light, a little age in our words, but we could still be none the wiser about love and life as when we were 17. My fingers are stained a little murky with the ink that faded off the cards, and with some glitter that fell off festive greetings. I suppose it’s a reminder that we mourn over things, people and feelings that are all too impermanent. But while it’s a pity that things don’t stay beautiful and perfect forever, it is indeed a wonderful consolation to know that I once really did have all and all of that.