What have you been carrying the longest?

When I was ten years old, my family moved from Los Angeles to Toronto. Not only was I angry about leaving the only life I knew, but being a sensitive child, I was ill-prepared for the emotional repercussions of moving away from my best friend, Lindsay. Nevertheless, soon after my family arrived in Toronto I attempted to correspond by mail, and I did okay for the first three or four letters. But after that, each time I received a new letter, I began to find it more and more difficult to write a reply. One week would pass, then two, then a few months. Evenutally, I stoppped writing altogether, while undeterred, Lindsay continued to send me letters -- at least, for a little while -- each new letter appealing more and more in a pleading tone -- please write back -- are you angry with me -- do you hate me -- are you even getting my letters? Of course, his letters weren't the problem. The problem was, I couldn't respond and I had no idea why. Several letters later, Lindsay finally gave up and our friendship died.

So -- what have I been carrying the longest?

Lindsay's letters. In total, there must be about twelve of them -- and they are all saved in their original envelopes -- some of them even with the little stickers that Lindsay included as gifts. Up until five years ago, I had no idea why I had gone to the trouble. I had only ever read them once -- on the day I received them. And then, at the age of 43, I had a cathartic experience that left me knowing, among other things, why I still had those letters after thirty-something years and ten moves. If you are interested in knowing why, please read the post It's Never Too Late to Apologize.