I’m building boxes for children to put their treasures in. I might even put a few treasures in for them. Temporary treasures that will last for a few minutes and quickly be forgotten. Then the box can be filled. With treasures only they will choose.
I may hide a secret or two in each box.
I can’t help but wonder what secrets and treasures of their own they will choose to keep.
We all seem to have different ideas of what is a treasure. And over time, I know my treasures have changed. When I was younger I would have filled it with books, letters, candy, pens, candy, ……but my treasures have changed over the years.
And if I had my own treasure box now I wonder what I would put in it?
The time my father told me I was his “ace” and the times I made my mom laugh.
My first kiss? No. But maybe my first kiss with the man I will love forever and who asks me to marry him every day. Maybe I would put his love in that treasure box.
Definitely the first times I laid eyes on my children, and held them for the very first time, and every time after that. Though I don’t know if I could make a treasure box that big.
The moments with my siblings that I think about and laugh about now, even if they weren’t laughable at the moment. I treasure the growing up with them. The all inclusive moments of laughing, fighting, and being in the same place.
I think my treasure box is over flowing.
If I squish the treasures gathered so far, in a little tighter, there’s plenty more room for all of the baby blessings.
And the “I love you’s” that have multiplied over the years.
The very dramatic and emotional part of me hopes that part of their someday treasure is the thought that I spent time building them a treasure. And filling it with love, and my belief in them, and my hope for them.
That the true treasure isn’t the box but the love put in to the box.
I hope for awhile they fill the boxes with rocks they find on walks with their parents. And silly little toys that hold a special meaning only to them and they want to keep it safe from harm. And siblings. I hope the box some day holds the secrets they write down and want to hide. And some day…their first love letter. The first little trinket from the first lovely date with the person who will love them forever. I hope some day it holds the first lost tooth of a baby they love.
And maybe one day they’ll stick a picture in it of me holding them atop my shoulders and see how strong my love for them is.
And maybe one day they’ll run their fingers over the beat up exterior and remember I touched it, and loved it, hoping it would be a symbol of all of the hopes and joys and great life I want for them. All the treasures in their life.
And I hope, by then, the box is unable to contain all of the treasures they have collected.