Hello, dear friends,
Today, on my way from the gym, I walked right into a yard sale - and found me a treasure.
It's a beautiful wooden box. I would say it's a jewelry box, except I don't have any jewelry. I paid all of $3 for it to the lady, and when I told her I was looking for something to keep my stitching threads in, she even showed me a very nice needlework chest. Except I remembered how I used to own one of these in the past and could not take it with me when I moved, - it was just too bulky and took up too much space. So, I said no thank you - and took this beautiful - wooden - box. I brought it home, inspected it, cleaned it. When I opened the chest and wiped the inside, I noticed that the bottom had a thin crack across it....nothing serious, for what I wanted to use it, it was perfect.
I looked closer to inspect the chip at the bottom and breathed in its smell. It was fresh - like fresh cut wood planks, the ones I smell when passing by the neighbor's new fence every day on my way to work.
The carved design made me think of Egyptian obelisks and reeds... who knows why.
The iron handles and lock made me think of things locked away and forbidden to children - mothers' and grandmothers' treasures, family keepsakes... The smell of wood, antique cabinets, secretaire desks, old big houses with carved awnings and moulded ceilings - and secrets, secrets locked away from prying eyes of strangers, secrets known only to the "lucky" few, only to those who possessed the right to open the treasure chest, the kind of right that comes with family status.
I bought a craft box for my threads - and acquired with it more than I expected: someone's hidden memories, preserved in a wooden chest.
Now, it holds my threads... but I remember that it was never empty to begin with.
Until next time,
