Memory Box

Authors notes: this is the revised edition of a story I have been working on. It is based on a true story of me and my best friend Tana. So the idea is me, years from now, telling this story to one of her grandchildren. 

It was three days after my Grandma Tana’s funeral. The date was July 9, 2096. I decided to go check on my Grandma Jessie. My Grandma Jessie was my mother’s godmother, and had been my Grandma Tana’s best friend. I walked up the stone walkway, and opened the front door—“Gramma, I’m home!”. Grandma Jessie had always insisted that with family, there is no need to knock. Silence greeted me. I went through the living room, its walls covered in pictures of her family, and stepped onto the tile kitchen floor. “Gramma?”

I walked out on the back deck, and there she was, in her favorite place. Her porch swing with thick, green cushions, custom-made by her late husband, Ash, to hold four people. She held an old, wooden box on her lap, silent tears rolling down the wrinkles in her cheeks. “Gramma?”She looked up and quickly wiped the tears from her face. Grandma hated other people seeing her cry. “Oh, hi Baby.” Grandma called everyone baby. “Are you okay, Gramma?” I sat beside her on the thick, green cushion. “Yeah, Baby I’m fine. I just found your Grandma and I’s memory box.”

I looked inside the old wooden box she had between her shriveled hands—it was full of pictures. I pulled out a stack of them, and looked at the top one. It was a picture of two little girls.

“Who are they Gramma?” I asked her.

“That’s me and your gramma.”

“Y’all have known each other since you were that little? How long did you know my Grandma Tana?”

Grandma Jessie took the picture lovingly, caressing its edges with her thumbs. “I met Tana back in—oh well we were eight. So that would’ve been ’06. This picture was taken at my ninth birthday party.” She murmured, almost to herself. “How did you meet?” I inquired. “Always pressin for a story, aren't ya girl?” She smiled. “Well, we met at church. She was the new girl in my Sunday school class, and she was shy. Oh man, was she shy. I didn’t like for anyone to have to be alone, so I asked if she would like to sit with me. She did.”

“Now, I asked people to sit with me all the time. Normally, after a couple weeks, they’d find a group of friends that better suited them. But, your grandma didn’t. Time started flying by and she was always there.” Grandma Jessie stood, setting the memory box on the seat she had been sitting on. She started to go inside and I followed. “But,” she continued, “what really brought us together didn’t happen until we were probably twelve or thirteen.”

She motioned for me to sit at the bar and reached into the cupboard for two tall, clear glasses. “One of our so-called friends, Macy, I believe her name was.” She raised her voice to be heard over the ice-maker. “She was one of those girls that just kind of appears one day and instantly becomes popular. She was real sweet you know, and me and Tana got really close to her.” She sat the two glasses on the granite countertop and reached for the fridge handle.

“Now, there was this fella your gramma liked-- a lot. And Macy knew your gramma liked him.” She filled our glasses with sweet tea. “Next thing we know, Macy was dating him! It never occurred to us that this young fella could decide for himself who he wanted to date.” Gramma Jessie chuckled and took a drink of her tea. “But that wasn’t the worst part. She began to talk behind our backs. She told your gramma lies about me, and told me lies about your gramma. I am so glad we were honest with each other and didn’t let her tear us apart.” “So, what did you do?” I asked her.

“Well,” she licked her lips and started slowly, “everyone deals with difficult situations differently. Your gramma was very open. She ranted and raved, and let everything she was feeling out. Me. I'm more closed. I ranted some. But mostly, I kept it all inside. I just let it build and build. I became very bitter and very angry. Then, one day, I was finally able to cry. And we started to let it go. It took us three long years to forgive Macy.” We walked out onto the porch with our tea and sat back down on the swing. “We got to where we could actually smile at Macy when we saw her. We felt sorry for her. She was so insecure in herself that she had to lash out at us. And it just made our friendship stronger.”