Memories

I pull the old fashioned hat box from the top of the cupboard where it has resided for most of a life time. The tint of time turning the once white colour into antique ivory, the faded pink ribbon still tied in a bow across the top.
I tug at the bow and open the box, a treasure chest of memories.

I take out a dried and faded rose. Through it I can see the boy that gave it to me, the party dresses and hear the music playing as we waltzed with self conscious movements under ribbon swathed ceiling and lowered lights.

A photograph now; going back in time. Two young girls giggling at the beach buckets and spades at hand. Now I feel the wind in my face, the spray of the ocean and heat of the sun. I can hear the sound of the gulls screeching in the breeze. I remember melting ice creams, sunburned shoulders and sleepy rides home while still wishing the day would never end.

I pull out a key chain now, and a 45 rmp record. Best Friends Forever, the key chain says. It, and the record, going away presents back when summer holidays seem to go on forever when best friends were separated by plans of the adults. The record was by that new band, The Beatles. We’d played hers until her parents either shouted ‘turn it down’ or threatened to throw the record player ‘right out the blasted window’ if they heard it one more time. Somewhere will be another photo, two young teenagers, all legs and smiles with bell bottom jeans and bright T-shirts. I find it, and another from a later date of a group of young people all lined up in cap and gowns looking solemn for the occasion, knowing that perhaps this could be the last time they were all together. And it was, so many gone now, so many gone.

Another piece of paper, a wage slip. Oh, the thrill of a first job and the first pay cheque. Independence at last, or was it the beginning of responsibility that lasted a life time. More and more I find, a wedding invitation, a lock of a baby’s hair, a crayon picture of flowers, a forgotten ring, an empty bottle of perfume. I take the stopper off and let the waft of the last molecules of seductive promise take me back. The memories come faster and faster, crowding in. They tug at my heart just as I had tugged at the ribbon of the box that had kept them tidy and safe before I joined them on a journey to the past. I will place them carefully back in the box, aged with time but still up to its task. And, I will add one more memory before tying it up and placing it on the shelf where it will reside for another part of a life time.