Newsletter (2017-2018) March 2018 Newsletter | Page 12

Yet, as time went by, she soon realised that her
situation was deteriorating. It then made her
concerned that she might lose her memories
completely one day, making her unable to rec-
ognize us. Since then, she wrote to me regularly
to grasp every minute to be with me. It was not
only intended to express her greatest love and
care to me, but also to remind me of her con-
stant existence in my heart whenever I needed
her. While writing these letters, she could also
remind herself that she had a lovely grandkid.
She loved me and knew I loved her too. There-
fore, she understood that the revelation of her
sickness would be cruel and heart-breaking to
me as a child, causing my weak spirit to poten-
tially suffer from tremendous pressure. She then
made a decision to let my dad stop me from see-
ing her as a way to protect my fragile heart. Al-
though making such a decision meant that she
might not be able to meet me ever again, she
did it unhesitatingly with the pure intention of
wanting me to be happy. She was unwilling to
make me worry about her, and she just wanted
me to bear her in mind with a healthy and caring
image. A tear rolls quietly down from my cheek,
along with my tremendous regret, dropping
onto that yellowing dusty paper. One drop…
two drops…three drops…
It is a gloomy Sunday; everything seems to be
dark. Blue mood, murky grey sky, black umbrel-
la…all of these look very similar to each other,
as if our pervading sadness has changed every-
thing in our eyes. We wear black suits and black
ties, standing in the rain, placing white roses
with teardrops on top of your long box, and
watching you sleep for eternity. Time passes.
Memories fade. People leave. But hearts never
forget. Though you might not be with me, your
spirit, love, and our collective memories will be
with me as always. I love you, Granny.
Majoring in English
Language and ICT si-
multaneously, Philip is
a chocolate-addict and
foodie who enjoys using
words to express himself
and tell stories.
MARCH 2018
Box of Memories
By Barbora Kulikova
“This used to be a badge I wore on my Scout
uniform when I was fifteen. I got it when I fin-
ished the last part of the challenge. I had to sleep
outside the camp for one night without anyone
spotting me.” My mother holds a small badge of
thick fabric with three eagle feathers on a blue
background.
“I had to do this part twice because Libuse and
Ondrej accidentally saw me when they went on
their usual night walk. I was so angry that I did
not speak with them for four days.” With those
words, she put the badge back into the box. I
had seen this box many times when I passed the
doors in the attic but I could only guess what
was in it. My mother had always kept the box
locked up. Until today.
My father was at work and she was sick, so
I stayed at home with her. When my mother
asked me to fetch the box, I had been surprised.
She opened it in front of me, and, I could see the
spark in her eyes as the memories ignited the
flame of youth in them again. I could see the
movement of her nose as she was trying to catch
the strange smell of all those old things hidden
inside.
“This white box is full of small pieces of glass I
collected in Cuba. Your grandma does not like
this box because when I was little, I dropped it
and the glass shattered all over the carpet. It took
us four days to find all the pieces. Actually, the
last piece was found by your grandfather. Have
you seen that scar on his hand? He tripped over
a table and his hand landed just on the last lost
shard.” My mother was trying to sound guilty
but I could see that corners of her mouth were
twitching upwards–– after you spent your
whole life with a person you get to recognize
their smallest expressions.
“What is this?” I asked her, holding a small piece
of paper.
“Well…” My mother’s face became a bit red.
She blushed! That meant only one thing––a boy!
When I looked at the paper, there was just a num-
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