Notes are funny. They sometimes mean things and have history others would understand and sometimes... Not so much. Grocery lists. Questions that need an answer. Important things on good paper - or a post it note. We all have distinctive handwriting. Some legible. Some not. Some childish. Cursive. Print. Somewhere in between. Distinct. Unique.
In the last few weeks looking through and working on different things I have discovered notes written by my Grandparents and Dad. One - a note of history explained on an old horse collar from a harness. My Grandpas distinctive handwriting telling the history of who bought and used this particular piece of equipment. Interesting. Lots of life in that note! As precious as the antique itself.
Another - looking for a card in my card notebook. My Mom had kept track and sent Birthday cards for us when we lived in Mongolia. I found a random note stuck in there by my Dad. Again his distinctive script. Asking a question to himself that he must have thought of. Caring. About me an my family. A question to ask me. Wondering. Always thinking of others. I could hear him asking the questions. Thinking the thoughts. Could read his care in needing the answer.
Notes . . . I guess we should keep them. Interesting for people to find. To see. To remind. To bring a smile or a tear. Not that I am going to keep all my random notes - I write plenty - but it has just been fun and interesting. Discovering bits of life that brings back memories. Interesting though. I was ready to call Dad up and answer his question. Couldn't. So that was interesting. Not quite as raw. But life.
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