Katherine Nicolai

Then he'd slip a screwdriver from his shirt pocket and go to work. But for this box, he'd been starting from scratch. Not mending, but creating. He'd sketched out the shape with a flat carpenter's pencil onto the pages of a steno notebook in the garage and gone looking for the right piece of wood.

Then he'd slip a screwdriver from his shirt pocket and go to work. But for this box, he'd been starting from scratch. Not mending, but creating. He'd sketched out the shape with a flat carpenter's pencil onto the pages of a steno notebook in the garage and gone looking for the right piece of wood.

When he found it, he'd measured and cut and fitted the box together, the edges of the wood dovetailing like puzzle pieces. Then he'd divided the interior with thin slats and lined it all with green velvet. He'd let me watch as he created slots for Grandma's rings, hooks to secure her necklaces, and a soft, raised mound to loop her bracelets around.

When he found it, he'd measured and cut and fitted the box together, the edges of the wood dovetailing like puzzle pieces. Then he'd divided the interior with thin slats and lined it all with green velvet. He'd let me watch as he created slots for Grandma's rings, hooks to secure her necklaces, and a soft, raised mound to loop her bracelets around.

When he found it, he'd measured and cut and fitted the box together, the edges of the wood dovetailing like puzzle pieces. Then he'd divided the interior with thin slats and lined it all with green velvet. He'd let me watch as he created slots for Grandma's rings, hooks to secure her necklaces, and a soft, raised mound to loop her bracelets around.

The top tray lifted out to reveal an open space underneath. inlaid with more velvet. The box was meant to be a surprise for her, and he'd asked me if I could keep a secret before he'd let me into the workshop. I'd kept my promise. I'd got to be there on her birthday, as she'd unwrapped it.

The top tray lifted out to reveal an open space underneath. inlaid with more velvet. The box was meant to be a surprise for her, and he'd asked me if I could keep a secret before he'd let me into the workshop. I'd kept my promise. I'd got to be there on her birthday, as she'd unwrapped it.

The top tray lifted out to reveal an open space underneath. inlaid with more velvet. The box was meant to be a surprise for her, and he'd asked me if I could keep a secret before he'd let me into the workshop. I'd kept my promise. I'd got to be there on her birthday, as she'd unwrapped it.

I remember how quiet the room was as she ran her soft, creased hands over the smooth edges that he'd spent ages carefully sanding and shaping. She lifted the lid and looked down at the velvet and then up at Grandpa, with such a bright, happy smile on her face, that we all beamed back at her. She was a laugher, not a crier.

I remember how quiet the room was as she ran her soft, creased hands over the smooth edges that he'd spent ages carefully sanding and shaping. She lifted the lid and looked down at the velvet and then up at Grandpa, with such a bright, happy smile on her face, that we all beamed back at her. She was a laugher, not a crier.

I remember how quiet the room was as she ran her soft, creased hands over the smooth edges that he'd spent ages carefully sanding and shaping. She lifted the lid and looked down at the velvet and then up at Grandpa, with such a bright, happy smile on her face, that we all beamed back at her. She was a laugher, not a crier.

And she laughed now, clapping her hands like a little girl, and leaning over to plant a kiss on Grandpa's cheek. The jewelry box had sat on her vanity table for the rest of her life, next to her tubes of lipstick and tiny precious bottles of perfume. I remember sitting on the edge of her bed, my bare feet swinging, as I watched her make herself up for a Saturday night out with Grandpa.

And she laughed now, clapping her hands like a little girl, and leaning over to plant a kiss on Grandpa's cheek. The jewelry box had sat on her vanity table for the rest of her life, next to her tubes of lipstick and tiny precious bottles of perfume. I remember sitting on the edge of her bed, my bare feet swinging, as I watched her make herself up for a Saturday night out with Grandpa.

And she laughed now, clapping her hands like a little girl, and leaning over to plant a kiss on Grandpa's cheek. The jewelry box had sat on her vanity table for the rest of her life, next to her tubes of lipstick and tiny precious bottles of perfume. I remember sitting on the edge of her bed, my bare feet swinging, as I watched her make herself up for a Saturday night out with Grandpa.

She picked out her favorite necklace and lifted the tray out to peruse her brooches. I nosily looked over her shoulder as she did and saw a few yellowed envelopes addressed to her in Grandpa's hand. She saw me looking and winked at me in the mirror. She still had their love letters. When the box came to me, I gratefully found I could still smell a bit of her perfume. whenever I lifted the lid.

She picked out her favorite necklace and lifted the tray out to peruse her brooches. I nosily looked over her shoulder as she did and saw a few yellowed envelopes addressed to her in Grandpa's hand. She saw me looking and winked at me in the mirror. She still had their love letters. When the box came to me, I gratefully found I could still smell a bit of her perfume. whenever I lifted the lid.

She picked out her favorite necklace and lifted the tray out to peruse her brooches. I nosily looked over her shoulder as she did and saw a few yellowed envelopes addressed to her in Grandpa's hand. She saw me looking and winked at me in the mirror. She still had their love letters. When the box came to me, I gratefully found I could still smell a bit of her perfume. whenever I lifted the lid.

Now it held my rings, my bracelets and necklaces. In the compartment underneath were my own love letters, the stubs of concert tickets, and one of Grandma's brooches. It was fragile, with a thin pin at its back that had been mended more than once. On its face was a collection of bright red stones, circled with gold, in the shape of a ladybug. Her wings were dotted with glossy black jewels.

Now it held my rings, my bracelets and necklaces. In the compartment underneath were my own love letters, the stubs of concert tickets, and one of Grandma's brooches. It was fragile, with a thin pin at its back that had been mended more than once. On its face was a collection of bright red stones, circled with gold, in the shape of a ladybug. Her wings were dotted with glossy black jewels.

Now it held my rings, my bracelets and necklaces. In the compartment underneath were my own love letters, the stubs of concert tickets, and one of Grandma's brooches. It was fragile, with a thin pin at its back that had been mended more than once. On its face was a collection of bright red stones, circled with gold, in the shape of a ladybug. Her wings were dotted with glossy black jewels.