If you are reading this, hello.

There was no use, but he tried to straighten the creases out of the paper across his knee. He fumbled through his worn shirt pocket to find a dull pencil. As he hovered over the blank lines, his dirty and calloused hands shook.

"There is much I could tell you, but none that would change your mind from what they will write about us. Their opinions will become your memories of how it used to be as you memorize dates, names, and places. But only we know how it really was. This was not a time of war, although war existed. This was not a time of bliss, although we did experience joy. There is so much that we would have changed, if it could have left our hearts the same. If you are reading this, hello. Live your life better than we did, but just know we gave it our best shot."

He folded it several times over and opened the dented metal tin. His fingers gently slid over the few things that he had chosen to represent the years of memories he had made while growing up. How was he supposed to pick only a few things to represent a life of love, joy, adventure, and creativity?

He buried the tin in the ground, grabbing large handfuls of fresh ground.

As he walked away, he never looked back.