He didn’t leave much when he died. But he did leave me something precious that meant a lot to me: his beloved crystal box. And not just any crystal. Those pieces held his soul and his memories.
Every Sunday, Mom carefully took each glass out of the cupboard. She polished them until they caught the light like diamonds. Then she told me stories about the day she bought them in Grove Wood town centre.
“Someday, Jenny,” she said, “they’ll come in handy for something special. Only take them out for special occasions, okay, darling?”
