A Secret Box and Family Legacy
After trekking for almost an hour, we finally found ourselves at the last point marked on the map: a large tree with its roots sprawling in many places, like tentacles, on the ground. Buried partially under the roots was a heap of dirt and leaves covering it—a little, weathered wooden box, exactly as the map had stated.
I carefully tore the part open with great trepidation as our hearts thudded in anticipation of something awesome—old coins, perhaps, or some other forgotten relic. What we found, however, went far beyond any of our expectations. There were letters, photos, and journals kept on oilcloth, the writings of my grandfather across various periods of his life.There were letters he wrote to my father but never mailed, photos of people we did not know, and thorough descriptions of his adventures. Among these writings was the entry in one of the journals that caught my attention. My grandfather explained why he had made the map-it was not because there was some treasure buried somewhere, but he did it so that something very meaningful to all of them would remain for future generations. “The greatest treasures,” he wrote, “are the stories we leave behind.”
