Tucker decided to rearrange our bedroom and I was cool with that since I hadn’t made that decision so it was all on him.
And then I realized I had to take part in that monumental task since I have a ton of books stuffed in a corner of our room and Tucker’s been on my back since we moved here to go through the books and get rid of some of them.
When we got out of the Navy and the military moved us back to Arkansas, probably 1/2 of our move’s weight was from boxes and boxes of books the Navy had to move. Books that are still in storage at Tucker’s parent’s house. Books I haven’t seen in years and I know I’m going to have to go through them once we buy a house; there’s no telling what’s in those boxes.
I found old journals from high school and grade school. I found a yearbook from my Sophomore year when I didn’t wear makeup and thought I looked like a troll but now I look at the yearbook picture and think I looked pretty good.
I found Beyond Good and Evil that I bought when I was a Freshman because I thought it would make me look smart and worldly or something.
I found all kinds of books–and memories–I had completely forgotten.
Does that happen to everyone when they go through their books? Does everyone attach so many memories to a few hundred pages?[nggallery id=8]