The steamer trunk

 An old steamer trunk lies in a corner of his home, where he's lived for sixty years. He didn't have a clue what was inside because his wife was the one who kept things, not him so much. She's been gone a while now, but her memory stays with him every second of his days. Not that he cared much, but the house didn't look the same without her. She kept everything spic and span, opening the curtains every morning where he turned on a light and left them closed. You never find dust on her watch. As for him, you could see it in the air.

Life still held meaning for him, as he had his memories and that old steamer trunk he never thought of, and he told himself he'd open it on Christmas morning. When the day arrived, and people everywhere were opening gifts, he opened the old trunk and looked inside. There were layers of old photographs of their younger days smiling for the camera and pictures of the children they had outlived. Digging deeper, he found the garter belt she wore on their wedding day yellowed a bit now, but he remembered her wearing it and brought a smile to his tired face.

She kept dozens of things as each year passed and the children grew up. Clay ashtrays, pop-cycle stick cabins, pot holders, and Christmas ornaments were just a few of her treasures, which he looked at with tears and smiles. Then he found an envelope addressed to him, and he knew it was meant for him to read when she was gone. He set it aside and got a cup of coffee, preparing to read it and wondering if he'd heard her voice as he did. He held the letter in his hands for a moment, seeing her as she addressed it and sealed it with a kiss as she did for every note she wrote to him. Her lipstick kiss was faded, but he held it to his lips and kissed her, remembering the sweetness of her taste.

He began to read her words, telling the story of their love and shared decades of togetherness. She wrote of their sorrows for losing their sons in a freak accident that would change them forever but never would stop her from loving him. The remaining things she wrote were her best memories and her devotion to him, the kindness man had ever known. She promised they'd see each other again one day and that she'd be waiting for him where all the earthly pain they shared would be gone, and she and her boys would welcome him to a place of peace and joy.

By day's end, he had gone through her trunk, removing certain things he wanted to see every day. He placed them on a table, dusted them, and opened the curtains so he could see them.

It was the nicest Christmas he had given himself as he kissed her faded lips one more time And put the letter back in the steamer trunk.

Mike 2024