good, and good intentions

Spent a week up north with my sister recently. Which was pretty fantastic. Hung out at her place with the trees, spiders, stars, chooks, mountains. Found it pretty weird to see so many places that have memories from my earlier life attached to them. Still doing my head in a bit.
And I also came away with even more respect for my sister and the way in which she choses to live her life.

Today at work we set to destroying a box of good intentions.
I will explain.
In the past, when people wanted to join the Library, we had to type up the cards by hand and laminate them. So they joined, and we told them to come back in a week and collect their card.
Years later we find a large box full of uncollected library cards. People who have come in, intending to borrow a book for their child, on their medical condition, about sewing a wedding dress on the cheap, because they were going on holidays, to read about the latest movie, to get themselves out of legal strife, because they saw a cool book review, because they don't want their mum to see them reading about it, because they can't afford the book they need, because they want to learn to cook/fuck/fix their car, because they want to better themselves...
...and then they never come back.
Good intentions.
And we have to shred, cut up, destroy, all of these cards. All of the physical evidence of these stories.

I have no way of ending this little story except that I wonder about all these people, and if they found what they came into the Library looking for.