Memory Book

 In high school I kept a memory book. It was pink with lots of sketches of a girl doing different things. The pages ere gray and thick.

Somehow, the book went missing, but every now and then I think about it.

I put all kinds of things in it: a ribbon from a corsage, programs, news stories, a few photos. There were notes I'd written like when Tom Chess, whom I had a major crush on, asked me to dance in a snowball. A snowball dance was when you started out with your partner. The music would stop and dancers would find new partners until we were all swirling across the floor.

If we looked out the cafeteria where the dances were held, we could see parents who had come to watch their children.

My report cards went into the memory book.

I was still at university the last time I saw the book. My mother and grandmother had moved and I never thought to ask about the few things I still had at the house. They were downsizing from a five-bedroom house to a two-bedroom flat. They had lived in the house over 50 years so there was a lof of stuff to NOT move.

I don't blame them for not giving me my memory book. By the end of high school it was rather raggedy. Nor did I think to ask. Still I do wonder what memories it would jog if I could look at it now.