05.16.09, 8:05 PM

Recently an old and dear friend came for a visit. We met for lunch and caught up on current events. We reconnected and reminded each other of why we were friends in the first place.
As we were going through the farewell routine, he presented to me an old tin, which I had evidently left in his apartment after our short tenure as room mates. I thanked him, but upon returning home, I threw the tin on my desk where it mingled with the rest of my crap.

I opened it today.

Pictures: They were old pictures of my children that my mom had scanned and printed. It's hard to believe they are a decade old. I'm not sure which has changed more, computer technology or my children.

Envelope: It was like a time capsule. Somehow I had recieved a card from my mother and never managed to open it. The return address was from the old house, the one that burnt down. Inside was a birthday card and a cheque for twenty dollars. The note mentioned my turning 27 soon. It's hard to believe that was seven years ago. I could really have used the money back then. Those were hard times.

Address Book: It was the one I used to keep in my wallet. The pages had all come unbound and were kept in a ziplock bag. There were numbers for people I haven't spoken to since high school. There were quite a few names I didn't recognize, washed away by the sands of time. But... there were a few names... the numbers next to them, so old as to be useless, taunted me.
Sean, Jenny, Laura... I wonder if any of you still remember me? What ever happened to you, Brett? Jason and Mark... do you still play in bands? Hannah, does your smile still silence a room?

You were all people who put up with my bipolar wreckage before I knew what was wrong with me, or even what "bipolar" was. If I could travel back in time, I would tell you all that you meant far, far more to me than I was ever able convey.

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