Over the Christmas break, Ian started to get upstairs ready for organising the new carpet, which meant clearing out the cupboard over the stairs that had just become a dumping ground for boxes and bags since we moved. Amongst everything, he unearthed my two memory boxes; I did know they were there but I’d not looked at them since we’d moved.
Whilst sorting things out today, I decided to open them up and have a look. They are full of good but occasionally sad memories and it got me thinking that now is time for a new memory box, one for our married life. Both boxes are very different, but they hold sentimental value to me.
My first box is my Grandfather’s writing box, it’s battered and worn, but it’s still functional. I had thought about having it properly restored but changed my mind. This is how my Grandfather had left it. I never met him as he died before I was born, but it makes me feel like there is a part of me that can connect with him. This box is the one that holds the bittersweet memories; those of my Dad and my Granny who both died 10 years ago. It only seems fitting that they should be connected to this box – my Grandfather’s wife and son. There’s two rolls of film in the box as well that have never been developed. They are well past their ‘use-by’ date, but I’ve an urge to see if they can be developed. Then I wonder, is there anywhere that develops film anymore, so maybe they are best left as they are.
My second box was a present from Ian for my birthday, the first year we were together. We were walking down the Prom in Cheltenham, I saw it, loved it and he obviously remembered. The memories in here are happy times, and everything that’s happened over the 8 years we’ve been together – there’s birthday cards, hotel keys, cinema stubs, train tickets and the occasional piece of Lego. There’s brochures from most places we’ve visited from down south at the Eden project, up to Cumbria and Muncaster Castle. This box makes me smile….
As we start our married life together, I’m now on the look out for an equally special box to fill with memories, and I wonder where will it take us and what will be in it. I put memory box blog into Google to see if there were any other blog posts like this one; there wasn’t many at all. So does anyone else hoard memories or is it just me?
PS: Dean Martin was a dashing fella, a smooth crooner and one of my Dad’s favourites. Memories are made of *this*