when hoarding is a comfort

I was filing some things in my office at the University the other day and suddenly I saw some old-school printed paper (before inkjets and lasers) bearing an essay I had written in high school. I remember I had won third place in non-fiction in my school’s literary competition, spelling mistakes and all. I scanned the paper and emailed it to my HP dad who said it almost brought tears to his eyes. He undoubtedly printed it out and put it somewhere in his clutter. I left my copy on my filing cabinet which is mostly uncluttered. I know I should recycle it, but it makes me feel connected to have such an unexpected thing turn up more than 20 years later and across the globe.



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