The box sat unopened on the kitchen table, a bottle of red wine close at hand, long-stemmed glass in reach.
Off came the lids and memories spilled forth:
Newlywed couple, too young to know the perils of an uncertain future.
Pensive new mom in a white nightgown holding her firstborn, swaddled in soft blue bunting.
Happy one year old, face covered in frosting.
Another newborn held tightly, this one covered in pink.
A grinning toddler waving chubby fists over a Cabbage Patch birthday cake.
Wine poured, a tentative taste.
Years roll along. Kindergarten, primary years. Slow days, fast years.
Field day ribbons in primary hues.
Teachers’ notes in calligraphy
Cards from grandparents, now long gone, the signatures unique and cherished. Tangible proof of their love.
A bit more wine, a smooth second sip. Sweeter, deeper, longer.
High school awards, who knew they’d had so many?
Yearbook photos from different schools
Letters from crushes, embarrassingly frank, oh this is blackmail material!
Pour another glass. Wipe a tear away.
Graduation photos with family and friends.
Caps and gowns
Alma mater in the background
That glass went quickly! Pour another. Be generous. That’s good.
Wedding gowns and cummerbunds
First grandchildren, three months apart
Sweet babies. She has my nose. He has your smile. More wine? Please.
New grandchildren are born
Personalities emerge–this one a tomboy, this one mercurial, this one a charmer; all loved
New alliances form
Those were difficult days. Yes, more wine, please.
Holidays and birthdays
Moving days, so far away
Family reunions, look how we’ve grown! From two scared kids to this grand family.
Enough for one afternoon. Besides, we’re all out of wine. Close the box and kiss me.