Some sent photographs.
Some sent letters.
A few visited.
One woman brought a spelling test from 1988 on which Mrs. Parker had written: You know more than you think you do.
Another man brought a wooden pencil box he had made in fifth grade.
A retired firefighter mailed an essay Mrs. Parker had once encouraged him to enter in a contest.
The school decided to create an archive devoted not to Mrs. Parker alone, but to retired teachers and staff members.
Owen volunteered immediately.
Of course he did.
He spent Saturday mornings scanning photographs, labeling documents, and interviewing former students.
Mrs. Parker joined him.
She became, somewhat reluctantly, the archive’s unofficial historian.
“You’ve created a monster,” she told me one afternoon.
Owen looked up from a box.
“I’m preserving history.”
“You’re nosy.”
“Historically nosy.”
She laughed.
Their friendship changed too.
Owen still helped with her garden.
But now Mrs. Parker helped with his writing.
