I’ve recently started taping the collections of little pieces of paper and memories into composition books. When the book fills up, I date it and start a new one. In flipping through the books later, I am reminded of little moments that I’ve forgotten about. It works for me and my failing memory, which was caused either by the mistakes of my youth, or raising children, or a combination of both. When we move in to the house, Bryan and I can pull out the ticket bowl, a gigantic glass bowl full of tickets, of all sorts, that we’ve collected during our relationship.