Boxes yellowed with age. No - they are not boxes from great great grandparents. They are from when I was a student at BYU and first married. THAT was a few years ago!
I've cursed myself lately for keeping too many things. This morning when I opened a box, I knew I was going to really walk down memory lane. 1974-1975 - my freshman year at BYU. Letters from my father. Having lost him earlier this year it didn't take long for tears to come as I read. My mind was thrown back to sitting on my bed in Wells Hall. I was just as eager to read the letters this morning as I remembered first getting them. And of course, his closing to his letters, "God Bless" always present.
Oh, I know I can certainly do better about throwing things away. But this morning, I'm very grateful that I've shuffled that box from place to place for the last thirty-five years.
