Unfinished business

I am 27 and it's probably time I become independent from my parents. With that in mind (and many, many reminders from my mom), I've been trying to clear the remainder of my things out of their house. After all, they have all their own stuff, plus a lot of my grandma's stuff, and even some of my great-grandma's stuff. Probably some of my sister's stuff. Can't wait for the day my whole family's crap will rain down on me to store, completing the true circle of life.

Anyways, I took a few boxes the other week and found some pretty awesome relics from my childhood. 1) A button claiming "I can jump 18 ways!" from my stint in my elementary school's Rope Power (18? are you kidding? Now I'm lucky if I could jump rope backwards). 2) This letter:



I had a whole binder devoted to correspondence, with the names of my likely recipients labeling the dividers and a stack of wide-rule paper in each section. Cica was my penpal from Brasil - the daughter of a friend of my mom's. I did actually write several letters to her, but seeing that this sad composition was the only thing in the binder made me laugh out loud. Was it a victim of the rise of computers and the death of hand-written correspondence? No, I'm sure I was just lazy.