The subject line read: "Grandpa's box" It was in reference to a care package my mom and I had sent to grandpa that had not been delivered to him yet. In emails, making plans for a swift visit, not knowing when things would change. But seeing that line several times during the back and forth, it occured to me, that I have my own Grandpa's Box. In it are memories of long drives, trips to the beach, just him and I. Styrofoam boogie boards, bought on the way to the beach...Everytime!! As everytime, they would break, with that one big wave, that would crash me to the ocean floor. He would stand up, looking for me in the surf, waiting for me to wave my "I'm ok" wave.
Classical music on the stereo console, always classical music. I am not sure if that his his taste or hers, but it was always there. Crossword puzzles in the leather recliner, with a dog (or two) always in his lap, while I pored over "Foxfire" books and asked endless streams of questions. A soft answer, always a soft answer.
Trips to his work, wearing one of his "CAT" hats, and always proud, when I would see one of those big machines, that "my grandpa works there"
Lost, then found. Safe again. As through the years we both struggled, each in our own city, each in our own darkness. Always a special place in my heart, always a favorite, always a joy of memories. Always good, in Grandpa's box.