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The Box on the Bed

Last gift from dead relatives

By Karina RuizPublished 3 years ago 3 min read
The Box on the Bed
Photo by Jess Bailey on Unsplash

As I look around my room, all I see is a giant mess. My mom is making me clean my room today before I play any video games, especially the shooter MPG I got yesterday. She knew I was going to avoid it, so she hid my PlayStation! I mean, come on, don't you think that's a little dramatic? That means, here I am cleaning my room well more like shoving my dirty clothes under my bed and hiding everything else in my closet.

"Mom, I'm done cleaning my room," I yelled. "Alright, I'm coming up, but if I see any mess you won't get your game back for an entire week," she yelled back.

"Wait, give me half an hour!” I replied.

I spent the next few hours actually cleaning my room, but there was one thing I couldn't

find a place for. A medium brown box with white and gold twine, I don’t know who gave it to me or what’s in it. It didn’t have my name on it, but I was pretty sure it was meant for me. I mean it is in my room.

My mom came into my room, “ See, how easy it was to clean your room? Now, if we can just keep it that way that would be great.”

“Mom, do you know where this box came from?” I questioned. Her face darkened, I don’t why it upset her but I don’t think that I want to know what is in the box anymore, not if it hurts my mom. “You know what, never mind?” I continued.

10 Years later

I just finished packing up my room for college, and there it was again the brown box. It looked exactly as I remembered, mainly I remember how much it hurt my mom to see it so I shoved it all the way to the back of my closet never to see it again. Now, my mom is gone and I still don’t know what’s in the box. She is gone. My mom is gone. It still hurts every time I think about it, even if it has been 5 years.

I think it’s time to open it, and move on. After all, I am starting a new chapter of my life. I hope she’s proud of me and the man I’m becoming.

I pull on the twine and the whole thing starts unraveling. It looks like underneath the wrapping there is another box, I grab a knife to cut through the tape. I open it up and find what appears to be a wool horse and quilt. There is also a note that reads:

Dear my beloved grandchild, I’m afraid I don’t have much longer. I probably won’t be here for your birth so I am leaving you gifts to remind you that you have always been loved.

With love, your nana

I never knew my nana, she died before I was born. I did know that my mom missed her mother quite a lot. I guess I know how she feels now. I picked up the horse, it has deep blue and purple colored yarn. It must have taken days for her to make, and feels so soft. Next, I unfold the quilt from the box, it is much smoother than most of my blankets. It feels much smaller than I’m used to, maybe 5 feet at most. Sapphire blue with mint green and robin blue swirls throughout, it’s perfect.

I flip the box upside down to break it down, and something falls out. I pick it up and see an old photo of a woman in a hospital holding a baby, I flip it over to see what the back says: Mary Ann and Becca, 1970.

It’s a picture of my nana and my mom when she was born. That was the best gift I could have gotten.

family

About the Creator

Karina Ruiz

I love stories, creating them and reading them.

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    KRWritten by Karina Ruiz

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