Once again I think Mom left me a cryptic message. Since her death in late March, Iâve been working hard to organize the fifty years of paperwork that chronicles Momâs life work as a community volunteer, preservationist, historian and docent. I have spent hours sorting through Momâs decades of paperwork, stacking, and refilling, sometime even shredding the nits and bits from the overflowing files and boxes.
Last week I was organizing her office supplies, stacking new legal pads, crisp manila envelopes, and fresh file folders in boxes, when I came across a well-worn folder. It seemed odd to find this dog-eared folder stuck in the middle of new ones. Momâs paperwork is cluttered, for sure, but I have noticed that there is some organization among the disorganization.