Tuesday, May 13, 2014

There's a Box on the Shelf



There’s a box on the shelf.
It’s a pink box.
A pretty box.

It sits in the cupboard next to some flowers, under a handmade quilt and on top of some papers. Beside it sits a photo of a pretty little girl.

There’s a box on the shelf.
A box that rarely comes down.
A box that contains the memories of her.

I never imagined that all the belongings of my child could fit into a box. And yet they do. Some days it’s hard to comprehend that; other days it seems normal.

There’s a box on the shelf.
I know it is there.
One day I’ll open it again.

It used to be opened frequently but life seems too busy now. There’s no time to peacefully sit; there’s no time to reflect. I miss opening that box, I'm forgetting what is inside.

There’s a box on the shelf.
Last night it came down.
Last night it revealed memories otherwise forgotten.

The baby was asleep and the husband was busy. As I opened the box and gently picked up each item, emotions overwhelm me. I can smell her scent on the clothes and I discover a photograph I had forgotten about. A photograph that shows her baby brother’s hands are identical to hers. One more similarity between my babies. My heart is full.

There’s a box on the shelf.
A precious box. 
My treasure box.

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