I am in awe of their tchotchke-free homes, but I could never be them. Reminders of my past--old letters, the kids' artwork, vacation souvenirs and the bad poetry of my angst-ridden teen years -- all make me smile.
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Once I thought all those trinkets would remind me of shared, carefree days. Now they just remind me that I need to dust.
It's nice to see I'm not the only one who has some utterly kitsch crap sitting around the house.
Thank you for dusting off your souvenirs, photograph...
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