The Cedar Chest

Note: I think hope chests are a lovely tradition that's been lost to my generation. I plan to put chests together for both of my DSDs.


"I have treasures," you laughed,
holding your life out to me
with both hands.

Names and dates, faintly familiar
faces in tintype and black and white,
pressed flowers.

"My beautiful baby girl," you said
and you touched my face, then
wiped one tear.

We unpacked all afternoon, you
peeling back yellowed tissue,
while I watched.

Your story was not in this hope chest
but in the hope you held for me,
your last girl.

Their hope was in me, too, the idea of me
becoming someone worthy, so
they'd live on.

And now you have one foot on the path,
to follow them down -- and you will
not come back.

Don't go, not yet. Sit here with me, unfolding
your lifetime, while we laugh and talk
in memories.