I didn’t know how much my father loved to hoard paper until he died. In the weeks after he passed, we sifted through the piles of cardboard boxes he had moved from house to house, always insisting that these were full of “important documents”. As it turned out, they were anything but important documents — cards from his rolodex, phone bills from 1977, faded yellow scraps of paper with scribbled addresses. But occasionally, we found treasures…
The most cherished riches came in the form of a pile of blue air-letter forms that smelled of my mother’s perfume. They were love letters, written by my parents, to each other. Those delicate, blue pieces of paper were full of the charm that characterized the way they would build their family…
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https://medium.com/@usha-dhar/2-ways-i-write-legacies-of-love-b1ac9acb1d36