The Pink Box

Alice hesitated briefly before pulling her rental BMW into the small driveway. “Would hiring someone to clean this house be simpler?” she asked herself, debating whether to get or not out of the car, "No, you got to do this girl, and you need to do it right away!” sounding more like a command than a need. The navy blue faded house on the corner with beige trim was the only home she knew of. She was born and raised in that house. The large backyard, the skinny palm tree on the front, the metal main door with glass panels, the colorful wall-mounted mailbox, and the hand-painted planters reminded Alice of her joyful childhood. However, all the wonderful memories seemed to vanish as soon as she walked through the door. 

The house was dark. The power had been disconnected for lack of payment. Only the light coming from the few windows without curtains illuminated the living room. The antique furniture was covered with white sheets. The kitchen smelled moldy. “How can a home so incredibly cozy and full of life be so depressing now?” she mumbled to herself. As an only child, Alice had no choice but to clear, sort, and pack their parents' possessions. It was time to empty the house and perhaps clean it before putting it up for sale. The clock was ticking. There was no time to lose or choose what to take. The Goodwill truck was scheduled to arrive in less than 8 hours. Besides, Alice did not want to take anything with her. “Old stuff turns into clutter, and clutter brings bad luck!” she claimed aloud like responding to someone else’s question. 

Her parents had been married for 64 years. Although they were not the perfect couple, they complemented each other. Two years ago, her mother died of lung disease. Her dad couldn’t cope and passed away from kidney failure or from a broken heart a few years later. Now, Alice had two urns that she had no intention of taking home with her. She felt that ashes weigh on someone’s soul. Moreover, she didn’t believe in funerals or wakes and had no intention of planning any. They were too painful and accomplished nothing. 

She traveled a long way and needed to be efficient. She had less than 24 hours to settle everything including saying goodbye to the only place she had ever called home. This was not the time for crying or reminiscence. Work needed to be done. In her mind, she knew everything would end up in the trash. Furthermore, she had no space in her carry-on to take anything back. 

The first task was to look for her dad’s wallet and any other confidential material that needed to be shredded or properly disposed of. Driver's license, social security identification, key cards, and credit cards all ended up as tiny confetti pieces. As Alice continued searching, a file popped up with numerous children’s drawings, school attendance certificates, report cards, and Christmas cards. All her elementary school years flashed before her eyes. She couldn’t believe her dad had kept them all this time. As anticipated, they all ended up in the recycling bin. 

Alice took garbage bags and almost instinctively filled them with everything around her. White ones for donation and black ones for trash. Feelings were not part of the deal. Alice has no interest in keeping any memorabilia. She just wanted to complete the task and get out of there. Old pillows, worn-out towels, chipped dishes, torn covers, stinky rugs, and old curtains quickly filled several bags. All around her was covered with a thick layer of dust. Alice felt sick. There was a foul odor that pervaded everything. It appears as if illness and grief permeated the entire house.

Alice continued working until she discovered a locked door at the end of the lengthy corridor. Her former bedroom was there. Alice made several unsuccessful attempts to open it. “A kitchen knife will do the trick!” she declared loudly. She sprinted to the kitchen and grabbed the only usable good knife available. After a few failed attempts to jam the door lock, she finally entered with a click.

Alice did not know but her old bedroom was converted into a library. The last time she visited her hometown, she went straight to the hospital where her mother was dying. She never stopped by the house. Pocketbooks from famous well-known authors around the topic of suspense and espionage covered the shelves. Among the hundreds of books, a pink box made of cardboard stood out. It was wrapped up with a delicate silver string. Alice had never seen it before. She took it in her hands carefully not knowing what to expect. When she lifted the top, her heart dropped. It was her favorite tea set. A teacup and saucer set for four plus a serving tray. “How could this beauty survive all these years? I don’t even remember the last time I played with it. Dad kept it all this time! Who knew?” too many questions with no answers filled her mind. Alice touched each piece carefully like caressing a hatchling. She didn’t want to break them. The four little spoons were stained. Nonetheless, the sugar bowl with the cover, the plate to put it on, and the small milk jug were intact. However, the charming design of purple roses was barely noticeable anymore. An overwhelming desire to cry fell over Alice. 

It was Sunday afternoon. Alice was in the gazebo getting the table ready for the weekly tea party. Her mom, her dad, and her dog, Penny, were already sitting around the table. They patiently waited for Alice while talking about their plans to put up an above-ground pool to enjoy the upcoming hot summer days. Penny was sitting still waiting for her liver treat. Sunlight streamed in through the lace curtains. The solar string lights decorating the gazebo were flickering. Alice was six years old. She could recall the whole scene vividly and as if it had just happened yesterday.

The lemon tree was packed with little white flowers. The aroma was delightful. Spring was in the air. It was about 20 feet tall, strong, and beautiful. It provided the perfect shaded area for the pagoda. The wooden birdhouse hanging from a branch added a whimsical touch to the scene. Cheerful birds flew around it. Their chirping created a soothing background for a perfect afternoon. The sun shined on the rest of the backyard making the spotted shade under the lemon tree inviting. Penny couldn’t resist it and spent the rest of the afternoon napping under the tree. The whole scene was a sanctuary of peacefulness and relaxation for the family. That was the only moment when time seemed to slow down, and worries melted away. Nothing can beat that perfect Sunday afternoon in the backyard. It became a precious memory carved into everyone’s hearts.

"Daddy, could you pass me the sugar, please?" Alice's young voice chimed, her eyes sparkling with joy.

"Of course, my dear," her father replied, passing the sugar bowl to her with a warm smile.

Alice carefully spooned some sugar cubes into her tiny teacup and stirred it gently. Her mother poured the tea, and they all raised their cups for a toast. It was real tea!  They were not pretending. It was a family tradition. 

"To family," her father said, raising his teacup. "To love and health," her mother added, clinking her teacup against Alice's. "To the best tea party ever!" Alice exclaimed, giggling.

Those tea parties were the most cherished memories of her childhood. The laughter, love, and warmth shared around that white wicker table were irreplaceable. Today, the reality was harsh. Her parents were gone, and the memories were stored in a pink box. 

Alice decided to combine her parents' ashes and bury them beside the lemon tree next to the gazebo. Once a symbol of abundance and vitality, the huge lemon tree was slowly drying out. A perfect reminder of nature and life’s fragility. Its once lush green leaves had transformed into a bunch of pale yellow and curly edges as if exhausted from their will to live. Some leaves have already succumbed to the inevitable and fallen to the ground covering what was left on the ground of the broken birdhouse. 

The backyard was a silent cemetery of memories. Penny included. Tears flooded as she held the tiny teacups in her hands. She could almost hear her father's voice and see her mother's smile. At that moment, Alice decided to keep the tea set, the only link she had to her childhood and her parents. She couldn't leave without it. It was a piece of her heart, the only tangible connection to the love that once filled the house. 

The Goodwill truck picked up everything assigned to them from clothing to furniture. Incredibly heavy trash bags decorated the front yard waiting for the garbage truck to get them. With the tea set carefully wrapped and packed in her bag, Alice closed the main door for the last time. She turned on the BMW, closed her eyes, and said a final goodbye to her happy childhood. It was a painful goodbye, but she knew it was time to go. Life would never be the same without her parents.

Back in her apartment miles away, Alice looked for a special place to safeguard the tea set. She settled for the dining room top shelf over the buffet. It would forever remind her of the love and happiness that once filled her heart. But despite her best efforts to move forward, the pain of loss weighed heavily on her heart. 

Over time, Alice realized that the tea set couldn't replace the love she had lost. It couldn't fill the hole left by her parents' absence. She wasn’t there for their parents' final hours. The pain of losing them was a burden she would carry for the rest of her life. Alice was lonely. She often found herself reaching for the teacup, seeking comfort in its delicate touch. It was bittersweet ease, a constant reminder of what once was and what could never be again.

In the end, the tea set became a symbol of her grief, a cherished possession that held the weight of her sorrow. As the years went by, Alice realized that sometimes, even the most precious memories can't fill the emptiness left behind by those we love. Her childhood house may have been cleared and the belongings sorted, but the emptiness in her heart remained, evidence of a love that would never fade away.