For quite a few years, I have been threatening to go into the recesses of the attic and find "The Box" that I put all my childhood mementos in. I was looking for one particular object: My autograph book. In that book are the signatures of my grandparents, great-grandparents, aunts and uncles who are all gone now. For some reason, I just HAD to take another look the other day.
First, I sent my son into the attic (because I'm old and decrepit and can't be trusted not to fall down the stairs, apparently), and when he came up empty, I went up there and got a couple of boxes that I knew had some of Steve's mementos in them, and brought them down. It wasn't until yesterday, while hanging upside down on the inversion table, that I saw something familiar peeking out of the box and started to tear into it.
What I saw was a red ribbon with the moniker "TF South" on it. I knew immediately that I had found the box with my treasures in it. There among Steve's boy scout patches, I found the autograph book for which I had searched so long and hard. Instantly, I tore it open (unzipped is more like it) and searched for Dzia Dzia's signature. I passed more than a few signatures along the way, that of Felix and Mary Cieslak (my great-grandparents), Busia (my grandmother), my parents, and then I saw his signature.
Dzia Dzia's handwriting was a beautiful cursive, and not at all like the writing you see so often today. Penmanship was prized back then, and I had even won an award in first or second grade for penmanship. I ran my fingers along the words he had written, closed my eyes and imagined him as he wrote them. The thought brought a stab to my heart, as I brought myself back to the present, realizing once again that he has been gone an entire 38 years. I closed the book again after showing it to my family, who know how much I reverence Dzia Dzia's memory and left it on my dining room table with the other items from the box, which I had not yet begun to go through.
I started going through the items today, and found a treasure trove of memories I had forgotten all about. There were newspaper clippings from when I was in high school, my report cards for grade school, award ribbons, graduation cards, my bronzed baby shoes, old letters from a girl my brother Wayne was supposed to marry but didn't, old pictures given to me from people I knew in junior high school, my high school graduation picture and one made 10 years later, and some small portfolios I had from pets that were part of my life. I was going to throw the pet portfolios away, but was tempted into looking inside. It was then I got the surprise of my life.
In those folders, were pictures of my german shepherd, Brandie, and my cats, Animal and Spooker, all now long gone, but not before leaving me with very fond memories. There were pictures of me when I was a young wife, not quite 19, doing my needlework, with a red bandana on, and Brandie as a puppy, romping playfully nearby. There are a couple of pictures of some guy I used to know holding Spooker, and if it weren't for Spooker being in the picture, I'm sure I would have thrown them away. I don't even remember his name. But the pictures will stay, just because they caught my beautiful black kitty at his most beautiful stage.
As I packed my treasures up, I teared up; it's sad to notice how snugly all my little memories fit into this small box. They seem so large inside me. Maybe that's the way they are meant to be.
Nazdrowie'
Paczki Puta
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