Scratched and rusted this vintage cigar tin sat on a shelf just above eye level in my parents home. Intrigued, my curious mind raced at what treasure lay inside. It had been sixteen years since I lived at my parents yet even on my visits home I couldn't recall having seen this tin. Spotting my uncle's name scratched into the paint on the side I had visions of forgotten childhood treasures, like the scene in the movie Amelie, when she finds a similar sized tin behind a loose bathroom tile. Excitedly I reached for the tin and gently raised the lid. Immediately I knew this once belonged to my pa — my dad's dad — who'd passed when I was 18 months old. My memories of him are from photos and stories told. Finding this tin was a moment of magic!
1 comment:
Love this. Something special about holding a piece of your ancestor's past.
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