“Thank you.” I try to give him a small smile, but it falls flat. “That’s probably for the best.” I clear my throat, looking up at Jon as he holds my hand.
“Do you want to look over everything?” he asks me softly.
I nod. “Yeah. I think that’s a good idea.”
We follow the chief to a section off the side of the house before seeing a small section of grass covered with a tarp and some things laying on top.
There isn’t much. A couple of mirrors that aren’t really worth saving, a few lamps that could be salvaged, maybe. And then a black box.
I immediately remember when Grams bought it, but I’d forgotten it was even in the house.
“What is it?”I asked Grams when she grabbed a big black box and put it in the cart.
“It’s a keepsake box,” she replied.
“Why?” I had asked again.
I was maybe eight years old at the time and had no idea what it was, or why she’d want something so ugly.
“Because it will keep everything I love safe forever,” she explained.
“Oh!” I bring my hand to my mouth, tears running down my face as I run over to it. “Can you open this?” I asked the fire chief, looking over at him.
“Sure. We usually have a set of universal keys from the companies. I’ll just go grab them.”
I watched him walk off, and Jon kneeled on the ground beside me. “A fireproof box?” he asked, and I smiled.
“She got it when I was eight. I had forgotten it even existed,” I whisper, staring at the box and wondering what will be inside. “At the time, she told me it was a keepsake box to keep everything she loved safe.” I shake my head.
“What did she love?” he asks, rubbing my back.
I smile. “Gramps and me.”
“Here we are.” He bends down and works his way through the keys until we hear the telltale click of it unlocking.
“Thank you,” I say, crying tears of joy.
Even if it’s just bills with her handwriting, it will still be something to hold on to from her, but I doubt it’s that.
Reaching into the box, I pull out a very full bubble envelope. Opening the end, I cry out when I see dozens of printed photos. I don’t know what they all contain, but I see a couple.
There’s one of Gram and Gramps on their wedding day. A picture of them holding me as a baby. There’s even some of my old artwork inside.
“Good?” Jon asks, and I sob a laugh.
“So much more than good.” I sniffle. “It’s everything.