CHAPTER 18
CHAPTER 18: THE SECRET BOX
A few days later, Samantha came over.
She brought dinner.
And a cardboard box.
"What's that?" I asked.
She looked nervous.
"I found it in Mom's closet."
We sat at the kitchen table and opened it.
Inside were photographs.
Letters.
School certificates.
Drawings.
I frowned.
Then I realized what I was looking at.
My entire childhood.
There were pictures of my first birthday.
My graduation.
A newspaper clipping from my first job.
Everything.
I looked up at Samantha.
"Why does she have all this?"
She picked up a photograph.
"Because she kept everything."
I stared at the box.
"But she never acted like she cared."
Samantha looked at me sadly.
"I think she cared too much."
I didn't understand.
She held up another picture.
"You remember this day?"
I looked at it.
I was twelve.
Standing beside a science project.
I smiled.
"Barely."
"Mom talked about that project for weeks."
I blinked.
"What?"
"She was so proud of you."
I stared at her.
That didn't fit the story in my head.
Samantha laughed softly.
"You know something funny?"
"What?"
"I found a box exactly like this."
I looked up.
"For you?"
She nodded.
"My childhood. Every drawing. Every report card."
We both became quiet.
All these years.
Both of us thinking we weren't enough.
Both of us believing we were loved less.
And here was proof that our mother had saved every little piece of us.
She just didn't know how to say it.
I suddenly started crying.
Not because everything was fixed.
But because life was more complicated than I wanted it to be.
Love had been there.
Hidden.
Twisted.
Poorly expressed.
May you like
But there.
And somehow that hurt even more.
