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THE BOX
William

As I drove north up the freeway my pulse quickened. It had been racing all day, but had slowed after she had said that simple little word. Now it was starting to race again and my palms were getting sweaty too, My whole future is different now. Everything's changed! No longer can I only think of myself and what I want to do.

I park in the driveway, then hesitate before getting out. Should I let the cat out of the bag now, or wait until later? I suppose now would be as good a time as any- and I want to be the one who makes the announcement!

I go inside and from the noise I can tell where my next stop will be. I go down to the workroom and open the door. There he is. His hair looks as if it has all migrated from the top of his head down to his eyebrows, but hair or no hair he's my special friend-dad.

From the sawdust on his blue work coveralls I can tell he's been up to something. "What are you doing now?" I ask.

"Oh just a little project for mom" is his vague reply." How did your date with Anna go?"

I couldn't hold it back any longer. "I asked her."

"Asked her what ?" he teased.

"You know."

"Well congradulations son! Have you set a date?" he asked, shaking my hand.

"No, at least not a firm one. We're thinking of either between quarters in March or in June after I graduate."

He smiled a few seconds, then said, "there's something I want to show you. Help me clear off the workbench."


I moved his woodworking tools, and he moved a lamp that will probably never get fixed. After which we both moved half a dozen or so projects, all in various stages of completion. Then we pulled the workbench out from the wall.

Behind the workbench was a small door leading to a storage space under the stairs. I hoped whatever dad had to show me was worth the time and effort spent moving his heavy workbench.

I first hooked up the extension cord and light bulb, then opened the small door. Through the dust and cobwebs I get my first glimpse of what is in the cramped space under the stairs.

A stack of boxes. They look old; the corners are crushed, the tape is yellowed and peeling, and there is a thick layer of dust over the whole stack. My father directs my attention to one in the middle of the stack, one marked "Leah's Jewelry". As I open it, I find many small bundles wrapped in old newspaper. Pre-l970's. "Boy this is ancient stuff" I sarcastically mumble as I check the first bundle. The paper is yellow, and slightly brittle to the touch, but not as bad as I expected. As the paper comes off, it reveals a small box. The rubber band snaps the moment I try to stretch it. What a disappointment, a light blue velvet interior sports two rusting pearl earrings. Well, on to the next surprise.

The next few boxes are real treasures! Necklaces, bracelets, rings and pins- it's like going through a kings treasure room! Many of the boxes are cardboard or pressboard, but one is a small cedar box, the kind furniture stores give to girls when they graduate from high school. Much of the jewelry has never even been worn and the original cards and price tags are still attached to them.

I look up at my father, he seems both amused and pleased at my excitement. Smiling he directs my attention back to the box.

Dominating most of it is a rather large bundle. I carefully unwrap it and find the best treasure of all. A huge black lacquered box from the orient. It had been wrapped in tape, which I am afraid has permanently bonded to the finish. However on closer inspection I find the tape can be removed if done carefully and slowly.

After removing the tape, I can appreciate the beauty of this work of art. On the lid is a scene of two figures dressed in oriental costumes, with what appears to be a Buddhist temple in the background. On either side of the lid is a door that swings outward to reveal two side compartments. On the front is a small drawer.


Inside this box is yet another kings ransom. There is a small velvet box containing a matched brooch and earrings. They appear older than the rest and were probably inherited. All in all, there are many brooches, and also a number of hairpins. This appears to be the main box in the collection, and the jewelry inside it seems to be what the original owner used the most.

A small box catches my eye. It looks like an ordinary ring box, but why would one ring still be in a box when the rest are out in the open? The way to find out is simple enough, I open it. As I raise the lid, a sparkle catches my eye. A single solitaire diamond, set in a white gold engagement ring, and welded to a matching white gold wedding band, shines in the dim light. The clear whiteness of the diamond catches the light making it appear larger. It appears to be a quarter to a half of a carat- perfect for the small ring. Inside I can barely make out the worn

inscription-18K. The ring must have been worn for quite some time before it was put in the box, as each of the four prongs holding the diamond in place is well worn.

I look up and notice small tears gathering in my fathers eyes. I don't want to embarrass him and I quickly look back to the box.

Questions pop into my mind. Why are these treasures boxed away? Are they forgotten? Did my announcement trigger my fathers memory? No, I understand now. My loving father wrapped up my mothers treasures to pass on to me and my bride when our turn came.

Now my turn has come and I know my mothers treasures are not forgotten. No, they are remembered, and treasured, by me and my wife to be.


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