We’re cleaning out and sprucing up and generally putting our hands on every single piece of whatever in this house as we prep to put it on the market.

I opened up the window seat in our room today and pulled everything out.

I touched hand-knitted sweaters and hand-smocked little girl dresses. Hefted an old camera bag filled with lenses that once upon a time were good. Made piles of bedding for Goodwill, and got a trash bag half-filled with useless crap.

In the mix was a ziploc bag filled with boat cards from our mid-90s cruise.

We were members of the Bahamas National Trust, but it expired in 1996.

There were cards from restaurants in Puerto Rico and a boatyard in Trinidad. Hand-drawn cards from friends. Lots of cards with ham radio callsigns on them.

No card with an email address.

2 of the cards were from boats whose people I saw in Annapolis this past fall; they’re both still sailing the same boat but my bet is the boat card has changed.

I know I need to be ruthless in my purging, but this is one of those I can’t quite bring myself to chuck yet. Jeremy and I need to sit down with a glass of wine and laugh and say “remember when” and THEN I can send them to the recycle bin.

The cards don’t hold the memories. They just jog them.

But the important thing is they happened.