I found it the other day. It fluttered out of the back of an old frame. My teenage self must have stowed it away there for safe keeping. The sort of safe keeping meant for love notes. Secret important stuff. I’d say affairs of the heart but that seems too intense for what this was. A note on simple lined paper. Torn from a school notebook, I assume. Written carefully in his best hand. The immortal words of Helen Keller. The best and most beautiful things cannot be seen or even touched – they must be felt with the heart. There’s no reference to the author. Credit for the words was supposed, I think, to have been credited to the note’s author.

Teenage boys are like that, I think. That’s what makes them scary wonderful to teenage girls. I’m glad to have evidence of that time. If it had been a text message it would be long, looooong gone by now. But there it was, fluttering from the frame and into my present. Reminding me. Making me smile. Memories of stolen kisses and teen angst. All of which seems so far away now, years and a successful marriage later.

I think of this as I sit down to write tonight. What are we leaving behind, Hubby and I. Is there a paper trail of memories for future generations to follow or is it all digital? Perhaps digital is enough in a digital world. As an elderly woman perhaps one day I will open a file and our story is there. Maybe my Facebook profile? None of these will ever flutter into my day. Drift in like a soft breeze bringing memories and smiles with it.

I’m thinking maybe a note or two tucked into old frames wouldn’t hurt.