A couple weeks ago Cam and I went to my mom's house to look for them there. I had never thought to look there, but dad said some of my stuff had gotten moved over there, so I thought it was worth a look. Mom took Cam and I to the basement and showed us all the boxes she had. There was an entire bedroom filled with boxes, a few scattered throughout the main room, a closet filled with mostly Christmas items, a little hallway with boxes, and then an entire under the house area with more boxes than the other areas combined. To say the least, the task seemed overwhelming, but hopeful.
We looked through each and every box in the first room. No tapes. We went under the house and scoured each and every box, cup, and bag. Not one single tape. Cam looked through the Christmas closet while I rummaged through the boxes in the hallway. Nothing. We were tired, hungry, and just plain down in the dumps. We decided we better head out.
On our way out, however, we noticed a large number of boxes in the garage. I pulled mom's car out, and we searched all of those boxes as well. After all of that looking, about four hours or so, all we had found were toys, clothes, candy, and baseball cards that should have been given or thrown away 10 years ago.
Mom showed us another closet in the garage that had close to another 25+ boxes. Our weary hearts weren't up to it, and we called it quits. Mom said she would keep her eye out for them, but I didn't expect much.
Well, since I've been back in Georgia, I've been going through boxes, giving stuff away that should have never been kept, organizing, and reminiscing about the good old days as I find notes, photos, and old toys. While I had no expectations of finding the tapes, I kept the thought in the back of my mind.
Last night Cam and I were talking about the tapes. Cam said he would rather find the tapes and they be unwatchable, than not find them at all. We also went over the possibility that I had accidently given them or thrown them away. But I couldn't accept that as an option.
Our conversation sparked my interest again, and I began looking around dad's house again. I moved his large TV and looked inside the chest it was sitting on. Nothing. I then went into his music room and looked at the pile of boxes from floor to ceiling. I felt miserable at the thought of the task at hand. I poked around, but didn't really look through anything. I then walked around the house thinking of where on earth they could be. I've checked his room, my sister's room, the storage shed, almost every box in the basement (this makes it seem as if I wasn't as thorough down there, but I looked through 3/4 of everything, and the chances of the tapes being in the boxes I didn't look through were super slim) , my room, the laundry room, the front door closet, the kitchen, the attic, and the entertainment center.
I believe my initial search, if it didn't begin with boxes in my room, began in the entertainment center. Over the past four years as I've come back home on leave, I have taken everything out of the entertainment center. Looked through every VHS, DVD, Laser Disk, CD, and cassette tape to make sure my tapes weren't in disguise.
But as I was thinking about where they could be, I realized that I hadn't looked there since I've been back. Oh how fruitless it seemed to search yet again where I have many times with no reward. I've asked my dad and sister about them, and they hadn't seen them, so how could they be there. Despite my pessimism I slide open the right door. DVDs and CDs. I looked in the little cubby hole on the bottom right. Nothing yet again. I moved over to the left door and slid it open.
Sitting there, right in front of me were ten 8 mm tapes. I didn't believe it at first, but touched them and they were real. Then I thought, there is no way they could be mine. But the labels proved me wrong.
Ecstatic, I immediately called Cam, knowing he wouldn't answer because he was at work, and left him a voice mail and sent a text with the news. He called me back a few minutes later and asked if I was lying. Whoop.
My only guess as to how they were there, is that someone had them, but didn't want to admit it, and brought them back once I started talking about them. I don't care.
Now it's time to transfer them to DVD.
OMGosh.
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