Anytime my mother cleans something it usually means junk is coming to my house. Seriously, she brings me all the stuff she has no use for anymore assuming I will. It usually just goes straight into the trash and I’ve told her that, but for whatever reason she still needs to bring it to me so I can be the one to do that. This day she was cleaning out her photo cupboard. Going through albums and loose photos and dividing them up between ones she wanted to keep, give to my brother and give to me.
We were looking through some old photo albums of my grandma’s and found a letter from her father to her on her birthday in 1936. In the letter he writes that he loves her, wishes her a happy birthday and tells her to keep the letter always because he’s not sure he will be able to send another. He was away at war. The pencil was so faint you could barely make it out anymore almost 80 years later. Those things are great to look back on and reflect on and imagine what things were like way back then.
Other things are not so great. Like my hair cuts. I hated the hair cuts I had as a child. I hated them then and still hate looking at them now. I had one really bad Marilu Henner hair cut that i can still remember to this day starting Grade 2 with. I had a perm that was even worse and then I had the “lets get rid of this perm by cutting wierd layers all around it” hair-do. Blame it on the era, the hairdresser or my mom – it doesn’t matter – they were all bad cuts! Every time we look at old pictures I give my mom grief about cutting my hair like that, which she usually defends saying I liked it or it looked nice – so it was sweet when my littlest daughter was looking at some of the old pics of myself and my brother and asked my mom “is my mom a boy or a girl?”
Thank you. They were that terrible. Now I know it’s not just me. A 3 year old is even confused.
I hope she keeps all those photos for herself.