Dressed in leggings and one of her husband's old shirts, she headed to the attic to finally start clearing away some of the old boxes that had been gathering dust there for years. She had gone through several boxes, throwing out junk as she went when she came across a box of old photographs. Deciding she deserved a break, she carried it to her kitchen, made herself a cup of tea and settled down with her box of souvenirs.
A wave of nostalgia washed over her as she sifted through the faded pictures. She loved those nostalgic trips into the past she would sometimes take almost as much as she dreaded them. She was filled with a wanderlust, not for adventure, but for those nostalgic trips into the past. The box of pictures had taken her on a sentimental journey and she felt giddy as she meandered through every special moment her memory fondly recalled. The pictures were like tiny fragments of a life well lived. Some of the pictures were all she had left of people she had loved deeply and she felt grateful for having had them in her life. She smiled softly as she stroked her mother's face beaming at her from a yellowed photograph and added it to the pile of photographs she would later frame and hang on her wall of memories.
This is beautiful. It made me pull out my photo albums and remembrance box. I could picture you in the kitchen as your tea got cold, distracted by the treasures you found in the attic.
PS: I am so sorry. I had commented on this yesterday, but I'm having issues and having to repeatedly reboot and apparently it didn't post.
