The Past in a Box

I finally opened the box. The box of pictures that I brought home and put in a corner. The box of pictures that was my Grandmother’s past. My mother’s past. My own. I opened it to explore and learn what I am all about. Where I came from.

One of the pictures I assume is of the Panama Canal. Where my Grandfather was for a short time with the Army Air Corp. And on the back a note scribbled to my Grandmother so long ago. And over the note there is black scrapbook paper no longer connected to the book that is long gone. As I sat and tried to patiently uncover the words I felt an energy. A piece of my Grandfather coming from the pen he used to mark it. I was taken by the sudden sense that these were his words. They were written with a love for another that no one should die without knowing. I watched as the letters unfolded, how they curved and formed words and looked alot like my own writing. I wondered why it seemed the last word was please, as if he were begging her. If the love notes he wrote on these pictures he sent made my Grandmother blush. Her heart pound. He loved her like no other.

The note says

April 24th 1938
To Mae
From Mason
please write real often
An I will write when ever I can and as often
please

He missed her. She was just 21. A wonderful time in her long life.