A THRIFT STORE FIND

It seems strange to buy someone else's personal effects when you really think about it. Most of the time it is just things they didn't really want before, but you always have to wonder, maybe it is something more important. Maybe it is something that used to mean everything to someone. Do you thinks that inanimate objects can hold feelings and memories? I think that all the walls of old buildings hold secrets, I like to imagine that if you held your ear up against them you could hear them talking. Things too. I found a bundle of postcards at the thrift store in portland and I read them. I didn't buy them, it seems weird to buy letters that are not even addressed to you, but I read them and they didn't say much, but still. I heard this story on NPR about some people that found a bunch of letters and spent forever trying to find the woman who had wrote them. It was fascinating. I wonder if anyone will ever read my letters besides the people I wrote them to. Or perhaps they just throw them out after giving them a good once over. I save most of my letters and postcards. I am a sentimental sort of a gal. I tell people that I love them too often, and they tell me not often enough. It seems like I am always reaching and reaching for people but I can never quite grasp them. Maybe I'll start writing letters to no one. Maybe I will leave letters in library books and in coffee shops and in classrooms. Maybe someday I will learn to be content.