Boxed memories…

Another new year and out with the old, in with the new, as is often said. Yes, it’s been one of those weeks in my life. Unfortunately, this phrase doesn’t apply to our attic where a stockpile of all things that once were has taken on a life of its own. I’ve written about this before, citing boxes of photographs, baby clothes, household items and more, each item a reminder of yesterdays and loved ones. Someone reminded me that the contents of these boxes really don’t hold memories and I was advised that all such thoughts are tucked away safely in our minds.

I disagree. Think about it.

In fact, after again watching a movie called “November Christmas”, one particular scene made my heart smile when a still grieving mother opened a box with toys, once belonging to her son who tragically passed away years earlier. She reached into each box and shared them with a visiting little boy who smiled with delight as he played with each item. That once sad collection of memories sprang back to life with a chance to bring another child joy.

Sorting through years of papers from my children, and grandchildren, I’m quickly greeted with sparks of precious memories inside each box. Bittersweet reminders of how quickly time has flown by and, for a brief moment or two, I’m taken back to places and times I’d almost forgotten. Photographs of tiny faces peering out from baby blankets that I once held in my arms; now they’ve all grown and insist that they drive when we go somewhere. Collections of retro music or scents from boxes of Christmas decorations, each twinkle of nostalgia tucked inside lures us back to cherished and much simpler times.

At times, when rummaging through boxes, a toy will be stuffed rather uncomfortably inside and I recall how my children campaigned for that item, only to play with it for a week, Still, the thoughts that flow back are happy, even if life was difficult at that time, for whatever reasons, but the easier times helped to bring a balance overall.

We continue to grow older, time continues to move even faster. The best part about this attic conglomeration of “stuff” is the ability to pass it on and share, so that others can look back and enjoy a trip back in time, reflecting on the beautiful pieces of life as we once knew it. At least I hope that’s the case, where I’m concerned. Forget any monetary valuation on things deemed collectible, it’s impossible to put a price tag on most, especially all of those boxed memories.

From the Writer’s Workshop: Share something that you worked on this week.