Boxes to Remember

She took special memories and packaged them to share.

My pieces of history were tucked in various places in my home, like my mother’s worn high school class ring in a box with the note she left for me: “For Doreen who never got a class ring.” I had saved seashells and coins from countries I visited. There was a piece of the Berlin Wall, given to me by an exchange student the year it came down.

I had costume jewelry—a couple of necklaces, some dress pins, a hair comb—given to me by my grandmothers. I’d also tucked away an inkwell and a wedding ring box from generations before me. None of it had any real value, but I thought of the original owners every time I came across the items.

I had recipes written in the hand of my mother, mother-in-law and grandmothers, speckled with precious spots of molasses and oil and a smear of egg.

As I became older, I was afraid the connective thread to these precious items would be lost, so I decided to do something about it while I could still remember the stories. I bought three keepsake boxes from a craft store, then I divided the memorabilia into three groups—one for each of my daughters, keeping in mind their specific professions and interests. I arranged the items on a background of old family pictures and handwritten recipes, then gently hotglued the items to the back of the inside of the box.

After completing each one, I took a picture. On it, I numbered each item to make a key, then typed a story for each item so my daughters would know what the item was, where it came from, why it was important to me, and why it might be important to her. I gave the boxes to them for Christmas. Their children loved them as much as my daughters did.