I’m going through my address book, looking up information for family and friends for wedding invitations. I’ve had the same book since college — a Griffen and Sabine spiral bound lie-flat desk book. It’s full of cross-outs and additions, and I rarely look at it, but when I do, it’s like looking at history.
My college boyfriend’s mother’s address.
My now-deceased college adviser.
My now-deceased great aunt.
My ex-husband’s cousins.
Friends I lost in the divorce.
And also some consistency: Aunt Karen’s address. Betsy’s. Liza’s. Christian’s.
It’s a walk through my life, as much as a tour of someone’s bookshelves or their music collection is.