To you, From me

Ida was 84 years old and lived alone in the house she had purchased with her late husband, Harold, when they were first married. His clothes still hung in his closet, his favorite chair still right next to hers in front of the tv. He had passed away peacefully one night in his sleep, and Ida missed him dearly. She had spent every day with the love of her life, since her 16th birthday, until he was taken from her 2 years ago. She kept every card and every letter Harold ever wrote her, and each time she read them she cried. Her children tried to console her, but the holidays had been especially hard. When her son, Dan came to fix the shelf in the basement that held her jarred preserves, he told Ida she should plant a special plant for his father in her prized garden. Ida thought it to be a great idea and followed her son into the basement to oversee the project.

Dan removed all the jarred goods to the table below and removed the wood shelf. As he began to remove the screws holding the brackets in place, Ida placed a hand on his forearm. Pointing to a loose block in the wall, Ida held her breath. She remembered Harold had installed the shelfs for her as a birthday surprise the year before he passed. He had specifically wanted her to stock the shelf herself, but due to a back injury at the time, she had been unable. She spotted the loose brick and her heart jumped. Dan heard her breath catch and looked to where she was pointing. He carefully worked the block free and peeked inside. Ida saw something in the dark. It was a small box. Dan removed the box gently, handing it over, he saw the single tear run down Ida’s cheek. The shelf repair forgotten, Ida took the box and went up to her bedroom, leaving her son in the basement to finish hanging the shelf.

The brown paper package showed only one label. It read “To you, From me” hand written in beautiful cursive. The paper was crinkled and slightly torn in some spots. The mysterious box must have been in the hole in the wall for almost 3 years. Ida cried as she held it to her heart, knowing Harold had put it there, and had never ruined the surprise. All these years, she had missed him. This little present was like having a part of him here with her again. She couldn't bring herself to open it. She sat it on her nightstand and went to the closet to get Harold’s work shirt. It barely smelled like him anymore but she could never bring herself to wash it. She laid his shirt on his pillow and turned out the light.

Ida entered the kitchen and poured two glasses of her fresh brewed mint tea, grown from her garden. She was setting out a plate of fruit as Dan entered from the basement door. He looked at his mother and knew she had been crying. He wasn't going to ask about the box because he already knew his father must have put it there years ago. His curiosity would have to wait, she would share when she was ready. They enjoyed the refreshing tea and fruit in silence. After, they walked through the garden picking various fruits and vegetables so Dan could share with his family. They took their time and enjoyed the sunset and the evening sounds. Dan hated leaving his mother alone and told her he would visit later in the week. They embraced by the gate to the driveway and Ida waved as Dan turned towards his car. She had barely held it together and lowered herself onto the bench Harold had built for their anniversary. She stayed there as the fireflies twinkled in the yard and the first few stars appeared in the sky. Not wanting to be alone with her thoughts, Ida put on the late night talk show just to have background sound. She cleaned up her kitchen and put away her harvest from the night. She would start her jarring process in the morning. As she sat in her chair in front of the tv, she looked over and got lost in memories of her handsome Harold. They had over 66 years of memories together. Their photo albums sat on the bottom shelf across the room. Ida brought the top two over and sat them on her lap. She ran her hands over the cover of each, feeling the aged leather binding. The most recent was from their joint eightieth birthday celebration. She opened the cover to the first photo of the two of them sitting together in a room surrounded by friends and family. She remembered the day fondly, how Harold had made her feel so special even though it was supposed to be for both of them. He had always made her feel beautiful even in their old age. She missed how he adored her, and how she took care of him. Ida continued looking through the photo album, smiling at picture after picture. She wondered what he could have put in that paper package. It felt slightly heavy. He had known her better than she knew herself and never failed to amaze her with his commitment to making her happy.

After making her cup of hot tea, Ida continued her nightly routine getting ready for bed. She entered her room and her eyes went directly to the brown paper package on her nightstand. She still wasn't sure she wanted to open it yet. She laid down, holding Harold's t-shirt covered pillow, and closed her eyes.

When Ida opened her eyes looking directly at the package, she decided it was time to find out what was inside. She sat up and carefully unwrapped the brown paper. The hand crafted wooden box was engraved with their anniversary date surrounded by intricate flowers. The slide open lid revealed dried rose petals covering something bulky. Not wanting to destroy the petals, Ida carefully pulled out a very detailed carved replication of the two of them on their wedding day. The beautiful handmade figurine made her cry all over again. She knew he had spent many nights in his workshop shed, but she had no idea he had been creating this for them. The details were so impressive she wished she would have been able to tell him how much she loved it. Placing the figurine along with the box on top of their shared dresser, Ida knew what she was going to do today.

She prepared herself for the day, with a change of plans, she dressed accordingly. She headed to the best known nursery, where she was known by name, because she went frequently. There, she spent her time picking through each and every plant, and purchased two of their most perfect rose bushes. After they were delivered, she spent most of the morning digging and planting the bushes next to Harold’s workshed. It didn’t matter if she sweated in the heat or that her bones were old. She had missed him for so long and needed to feel she contributed to their lifetime memories that he had immortalized. When the bushes were perfectly symmetrical, Ida watered her tribute to Harold, the love of her life. She knew everyday and night she would enjoy looking toward the workshop shed from now on. That night when she walked through the garden, she felt as if she had made Harold proud. Even though he was gone, he felt so close.