Sometimes, i'd get lazy. I'd have a stack of receipts sitting hidden in my closet and it would take me months before I look through them, which is probably how I just came across a giant envelope of unsorted receipts stemming from the last accountable date of...a year ago.
Rather than just tossing everything out at once, I masochistically sat down and looked at each individual receipts before placing them in the recycling pile. Oh, this one is from Chicago, this from New Orleans, this from the airport before the family trip to Yosemite. Not to mention all the Walgreens, Starbucks, Stop and Shop, Margaritas, Qdoba, and Quiznos receipts. I can look at each one of the itemized receipts and still recall all the events associated with them.
One of the Stop and Shop receipts showed a bunch of fruits. I hate fruits; I never eat them. I remember that night when we went to Stop and Shop and he said he wanted to make fruit salad, in an attempt to be healthier. I protested. He promised he'd break the cantaloupes and melons, wash the grapes, and cut the pineapple--yes, even the pineapple. I was dubious. "Come on, you're just going to let those fruits sit there and rot and forget about cutting them." I was half-wrong. Two giant containers of fruits sat in our fridge, half of which rotted and eventually went into the garbage. It was a good attempt, nonetheless.
The only receipt I allowed myself to save from this giant pile is one of the many that were from Walgreens. On the particular receipt there was a nailpolish, a top coat, an illuminator, an eyeliner sharpner, and snickers ice cream. I don't remember what day or what month that receipt is from (although if i look more closely i can find out), but I recall that day being cold and I was bored at home and it was dark. So we took a walk to the walgreens downstairs, just to check it out, for the millionth time. I remember spending soooo long in there picking out make up on sale while he waited for me in the other aisles, and then feeling guilty about buying make up. So he offered to pay. I remember we walked home hand in hand and for some reasons we sat in the lobby in front of the TV and I remember telling him how happy I was and how it was one of my favourite days.
Getting rid of these receipts makes me wonder what footprints I left in Boston. If these receipts are gone, is there going to be any proof that I had a life there? Sure there are documents like my TN Visa, and my banking papers...but what about about the proofs of my day-to-day there and how i spent my time? In five years, when there are no more little relics and momentos that creep up out of the left field, will the last couple of years feel like another life altogether that I can no longer remember?
Does the past ever matter for our future?
One day, when I again must filter through all the paperworks I manage to horde over the years, I might come across this receipt again and realize that I no longer have a place for it. But for now, I guess it will stay buried among the pay stubs, the credit card bills, and tax papers.
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