A Box of History

Today, a package arrived from Minnesota with my name scrawled across the top. It was heavy, but packed so that nothing inside shifted as I brought it up the three stories of concrete stairs. I had no idea what was inside it, nor the emotions that would arise when I opened it.

Opening it not brought the smell of the cabin, a flood beloved memory from my childhood. As much as the Minnesota heat made me miserable, Grandma and Grandpa's cabin was a much loved place. It was an adventure, it was a home away from home. 

Quilts packed everything into place safely. They screamed my grandmother's aesthetic, and smelled like the cabin. Nothing I would ever make, but I couldn't help but love. 

Tears ran freely, I didn't even want to hold them back. Writing this, they run freely again. I can't stop them. I miss my grandmother. She drove me crazy, but damnit if she didn't love fiercely and with a passion that is unrivaled. 

Unwrapping the quilts revealed beautiful baby clothes for our daughter. Gifts I never in a million years would have expected. I would give anything for my grandma to know this little girl. This perfect little girl who has made my life a roller coaster. I don't think she would have approved of a baby in my life this early in my life, but she would have loved Natalia no matter what. She would have loved her because she is part of me. I can't wait to put my daughter in those clothes. I'm sure tears will follow, but beautiful, practical clothing from my family... family I barely have contact with anymore is so greatly appreciated anymore. 

There was a beautiful stool, made by my father when he was in junior high. It matches our nursery set quite nicely and will be a a lovely little thing for Natalia to grow up with. 

The bottom of the box was filled with history. My grandma had saved her report cards, cheer leading pictures, newspaper articles that brought her to life again. This time, not as a grandma, but as a vivid multifaceted person I had never known. A woman I wish I had known. 

Among the papers of my grandma's childhood were things from my dad's childhood also. Pictures of his hockey team, a script from Oklahoma, and Boy Scout paraphernalia. 

I feel honored to have been given these things. It reinforces my place as a historian in this world. I need to go get a proper archival file to keep these things safe in. And to continue to keep the pieces of our family history alive.