Harvest, shovel, and There was something about a music box that always made me…
There was something about a music box I couldn’t explain in the few minutes they gave me. Handed down by my mother, there was something special about its harvest colours. In gold and silver, autumn leaves trailed down one side like her beautiful necklaces stored inside.
On more than one occasion, I retrieved them from their safe container, twisted the little ballerina on top, and danced to the same melodious tune. Make-up was piled on like I used a shovel. Bright red lipstick and blue eyeshadow covered the whole of my eyes.
As I got older it took on a lesser role and eventually I placed my childhood in a box, along with my toys, dolls and assortment of Pokémon cards. I grew up, got married, and had a baby of my own.
On her sixth birthday I couldn’t afford a gift and I thought of my musical box for the first time in years. I unpacked the contents on my bed, and with the care for new, I wrapped them up.
Her smile lit the room, as she opened the lid, the music played once more.