Since publishing, Legacy, I keep thinking of other things that I wish I had included in the book. Discussions with some of my relatives also inspire ideas. One day, I may have to do as one cousin suggested, write Legacy II.
One thing that I might have written about, but didn’t is the music box. I recall seeing it while grandma was alive, but can’t remember if she kept it on the shelf of a small corner knickknack or on top of the old floor model TV. As far as I know, there isn’t anything special about the music box. It’s merely a keepsake for me. I received it, courtesy of a thoughtful aunt, who gave it to me after grandma died. “Just so you can have something that belonged to her,” she said.
Until a few weeks ago, when I was housecleaning, I had forgotten that I had the music box. I rediscovered it when I pulled a small cardboard box out of the closet. On top of numerous other odds and ends inside the box was the dusty music box. After glancing over the contents of the storage box, I hastily decided that I didn’t need any of the stuff and dumped all of it into a trash bag that I had placed on the floor near the closet. I picked up the strings, shook the bag a couple of times and was preparing to tie it up when the music box began playing a few notes. And then it stopped. Perhaps while shaking the bag, I had jarred the wind-up mechanism. I opened the bag, reached inside, removed the music box and then wiped off the dust on one pant leg of the old blue jeans that I was wearing for the cleanup. It was then that I remembered to whom the box had belonged.