(Small Fry Chapter 3)
I carried the box up the
staircase to put it on the floor, in the small upstairs hallway. Next, I reached up and pulled the chord
hanging from the ceiling, which opened the hatch to the attic. The fold-up ladder which was attached,
unfolded before me.
Using one hand to carry the
box, I climbed the small ladder up into the dark, dusty attic.
Immediately, I sneezed from
the cold and dust! Then I had to engage
my glowing eyes for the night-vision, so I could find the light switch. My hand found the long chord which hung from
the ceiling, and I gave it a gentle tug.
As soon as the light came
on, my glowing turquoise eyes dulled back to their dark blue colour. I looked about the disorganized, dusty, dim
attic. Many a cobweb hung from the
rafters, or even connected a couple of the boxes which were piled high. I was looking on three hundred years of
memorabilia.
We haven’t been up here in
years! Oh hang on, maybe Declan has… my
eyes settled on the least dustiest of the items, my two suitcases. So that’s what he did with them! I suppose I should be relieved he didn’t burn
them, like he threatened to.
I started to examine the
different labels on the cardboard boxes.
Once upon a time, this attic was clean and organized. When we started to accumulate keepsakes from
family members who’d passed on, we wrote on the boxes what was in them.
My hand removed some the
dust, so I could see the descriptions properly.
I read his writing on boxes which read as ‘Mom’s Stuff’, or ‘Derik’s
Stuff’ or ‘Blanche and Michael’s Stuff’.
They had been Declan’s human mother, brother, nephew and niece. His family’s things were stacked neatly
against one of the attic walls.
My family’s things however,
weren’t as tidy as Declan’s. Boxes such
as ‘Vincent’s Things,’ or ‘Mum and Dad’s Things’, or ‘Gran and Grandfather’s
Things’; were all sitting willy-nilly about the confined space. Over the many years, I’d open them upon
occasion when I needed to find something, like a photo album. But his boxes were untouched, as I couldn’t
recall him ever looking, perhaps because the memories were still too painful?
I picked up the box which
Walt had given me and carried it over to the box full of ‘Gran and
Grandfather’s Things’. I wanted my
paternal grandparents memorabilia to sit beside my maternal grandparents. I’d have to come back with tape and seal it,
before labelling it.
Unconsciously, I began to stroke the box as I reminisced
on my parents and my grandparents. With
my ‘bundle of joy’, I’d have loved to share this with my family. I never did make my Mum and Dad grandparents
however, Aunt Susan enjoyed this delight through Derik.
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