The Memory Box

I ran my fingers alongside the rustic frame of a box, a very old one. It had been passed down from my grandmother to my mother and now to me. The memory box always comforted me when I longed for my mother's arms but never again will I feel her warmth. She died nearly a year ago when I had discovered it in her room addressed to me. At first, I thought it was a jewelry box, an empty box with a tune, but when I winded it back the tune must have put me out because I was sure I was dreaming. 

“Mommy, I love you this much!” six-year-old me held my hands out as far as they could reach.

“My sweet, sweet Anna. I love you to the moon and back.” She squeezed me tightly in a rocking chair next to my bedroom window, a feeling I missed so much. 

“How much is that?” My head laid against her chest, the pounding of her heart was comforting. 

“Do you see that?” She pointed to the glittering moon outside the window. I nodded my head. “I love you more than my arms can reach, and more than my heart can hold.” She kissed my forehead and then I drifted asleep. 

I was then again awake holding the box in my hands, the music had stopped. How strange I thought at first. Then I used the box again. 

I winded the box once more and when the music started, I was back in the hospital next to my mother on her deathbed. Just the day before she had collapsed in the living room which led the hospital to find stage four ovarian cancer. 

I was kneeled down next to her in tears. “Don’t cry, you're too beautiful,” she told me with a crisp voice.

Twelve years old me had been so heartbroken, though it never got easier. “How am I ever supposed to be happy.”

“Come here.” She moved over so I could lay with her. “The memories of us will be all you have left, but when I think about the times we had. I smile. I want you to smile too.” She wrapped her arms around me.

Then the music stopped and I was awake again. It didn't take me long to find out how to use the box. I closed my eyes and thought about a memory, then suddenly I would see it. The box couldn't bring my mother back but every day it was a second chance to relive the old memories with her, to hear her comforting laugh and for me, that was enough.

Until I was reliving nightmares of me standing next to her casket and me not being able to breathe. I wanted it to stop. I knew that rewinding the box would let me see the past, but what if I sped up the music, winded it forwarded? 

I took a deep breath and began pushing the handle forward. The tune inside the box sped up and suddenly I was sitting in my old nursery, I thought. The nursery walls were blue instead of pink. I was sitting in my mother's old rocking chair but this time I was in my late twenties. 

“Mama, mama.” Said a charming little fellow holding a binky. 

“My little dust-bunny!” I rubbed my nose against his. 

Then It stopped. Did I see the future? "A baby boy?" I said smiling joyfully.

So again I tried to see what was to come, I winded the handle forward as fast as it could go. 

I was at a funeral. This had to be a mistake. Maybe the box was broken, I thought. I was clinging to the casket but I wasn't my thirteen-year-old self, I had to be at least thirty. I made my way to the front to peek inside, this casket was tiny. An awful feeling rumbled inside me as I approached it. I gasped, It was a boy. No older than five. It was the same charming face from before but older. 

The music stopped and my mouth fell open. Tears sprung from my eyes as I tried to gather my thoughts. Not only was I going to have a baby boy but I would also lose him. 

I slung the box into the floor in anger. I realized that it hadn't been a gift, but a curse.

The next day I took the box to my backyard, with a shovel I dug a hole. "This ends here." I buried it. Hoping to never see it again so I could save the next person from the pain and grief it can cause.

Little did I know that years from now I would also have a girl, she would come to see my passing and discover the box where I had buried it. She would long for my love and warmth of my arms that held her so tightly once.

At first, she will think it was a jewelry box, an empty box with a tune, but when she winds it back the tune will have put her out because she will be sure she was dreaming. 

She would relive memories as I did. She would be haunted by the future and what will come, then one day pass the box on.

The memory box, the curse of generations.