Saturday, 10 April 2010

2. Eight Miles High and Falling Fast

I climbed up into our attic today to look for the letters that he sent me, but I guess that they've gotten lost in the house moves that I've had since school via university to now. Or maybe I threw them away in an attempt to convince myself that I was as mentally faithful as possible to my ex-boyfriend. Too young to realise that keeping old letters isn't a problem in a secure relationship. Too young too stupid. I wish I still had them.

My email account has a folder for "Important Emails". Bills and the like. Very sensible, but are they really what's important in the long run? Probably not. But memory is transient and not something that you can hold in a letter. That just makes it easier.

So I'm down from the attic, choked with dust, covered in traces of the past and itchy fibre glass with no letters for my trouble. My father asked me (I had to borrow a torch, the light bulb had blown) "Did you find what you were looking for?" I don't know. I didn't find the letters. Have I found what I've been looking for since? Does anyone?

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