Any Skeletons in YOUR Closet?

 

I just had the--ahem--interesting experience of re-reading all the old letters I'd sent to one of my BYU roommates. My good friend, who I will refer to only as "E," came across this collection, which she'd kept for several years, and thought I'd enjoy having them back to read. She packaged them up, complete with a pink ribbon, and sent them in the mail (By the way, have any of you ever wondered about the security of our mail system? I hadn't thought much about it before now. . . ).

Anyway, I was anxious to read the letters, and when they arrived I was really excited. My first impression was, "Wow--I've gone downhill in my writing ability--I used to sound so much more intellectual." My next impression was, "Oh dear. . . "

 

The letters contained not only a record of EVERY interaction I'd had with EVERY guy I'd EVER liked (For example: "This week I saw so and so on campus three times--the first time he was wearing . . . ), but also other instances of scandal, disappointment and heartache--many of which I'd long forgotten.

I quickly had to stop Jason from reading the letters out loud, and I'm seriously thinking about burning them before he can read them at all.

 

By far the most alarming part of this little trip down memory lane was the level of detail I'd included in the letters. It was downright embarrassing to think I'd written such lengthy descriptions of such trivial encounters that I could re-live them so many years later. I can assure you, I left NOTHING out. Poor E. I felt so sorry that she'd had to read this pathetic drivel.

After reading my old letters, though, I do have a couple of observations that I'd like to share:

1. I am incredibly lucky to have such a good friend who has stuck by me through all my sad times (loves lost, more loves lost, and even more loves lost).

2. E (and the rest of the world, for that matter) is incredibly lucky that Jason found me and put me out of my misery.

 

I also realized once again--as I re-lived some of the deeper and more complex emotions of the past--that the person who I am today has come from the experiences I wrote about in those letters.

I guess we all have a few skeletons in our closets, and most of the time they're best left there, but it's interesting to drag them out once in a while to see how far we've come and to try to come to terms with how we've arrived here.

I'm really grateful to E for that experience . . . and also relieved that if I ever become famous I will not have to buy her silence--or at least the documentation of all the embarrassing stories she might--ahem--"invent" about me :)