Week 2 Prompts

6. The stuff I've collected over the years in my little box/bureau drawer/keepsake chest marks every step of my way.

Not too long ago I was cleaning out the back of my closet. This is the place my inner hoarder comes out. All of the things that I should have thrown away, but held on to live there. Anyway, I was 'cleaning' it out (taking items out, contemplating for a few seconds, then replacing them in a more organized fashion) when I came across a box with a tag saying 'Ex-Files' on it. I don't remember where I go the title, I think I saw it on a movie once or something and thought it was clever. It contains memories from old boyfriends, notes and dried flower pedals and such. Next to it was a box filled with things from my relationship with my husband (I couldn't think of a clever title for this one I guess).
I opened them to compare and was surprised to find the contents very similar. I imagined the new box would contain grown-up things. I don't really know what grown up things are, but the concept seemed fitting. It too was also filled with little notes, flower pedals, photos of our dating days, a bottle cap that says 'your kind of a big deal' on the inside, he gave it to me on our first date. It all seemed rather juvenile, and I thought, does this define our relationship? Are the similarities between these two boxes also true when comparing relationships?
Then I started reading some of the notes. Again, very similar. The difference being, when I read notes from my husband, my heart started to flutter. I found myself holding my breath until the very last word. That's when I realized, the mementos from each are similar in form, but the meaning, the feelings I get from them, is exponentially more significant when they came from the man I love.

7. Looking in that photo album, I see--

My son, Grady. I'm witnessing all of his milestones through images. When he first rolled over, his first steps, the big first birthday, etc. Then, the cycle starts again, with my youngest son, Jack. If a someone were to view these pictures in black and white, they may think they are the same child. The only difference being that Jack has red hair. It baffles me that the one person in three generations to have red hair is him. It's so weird because it completely fits him. I think he would be a completely different person with brown hair. Or at least, I would perceive him differently. It's strange how our attributes help to define us as people. Who would I be with red hair?

8. It was the first, but not the best--or was it?

My first apartment with my husband was basically a hallway. I bet if I checked into it, it would be illegal for a person to live in that minuscule amount of living space. We squished as much furniture as possible in the oddly chopped up rooms. And there we were. Just us and an 80 lb dog named Rikkah. We had absolutely no way to escape each other. We could be sitting at either end of the apartment and still hear each other breathing. But we didn't have to escape each other. So fantastically smitten, we could spend infinite amounts of time together.
Ever since that apartments, our living spaces have been larger with each move and eventually we purchased our own home. This milestone gave us freedom from landlords. Which I thought would be a relief, but quickly realized the opposite. We have nobody to call to fix the sink, or worse, when we have septic troubles. Being your own landlord is a lot of responsibility. It makes me miss our tiny, hallway apartment.