Greatest Possessions

“What are you doing?” I asked him, one morning.
He did not say anything, but just continued to sort boxes from boxes.
“Should I help you?” I asked again.
“It’s ok,” he finally muttered.” I’m just trying to find something.”
“Hmm, “I said. Although I was tempted to ask what he was looking for.
“Aha!” he exclaimed, holding a baseball in his hand.
“What is it?” I asked, amazed.
“This is one of my greatest possessions” he explained.
“Ah,” I said, understanding.
Then he smiled.
“What are your greatest possessions?” he asked.
Memories.
I answered silently.
“Hmm, let me think.” I said smiling.
“Just name the first five things that come to your mind,” he invited.
“My mother’s guitar,” I laughed at the memory. “It’s not really mine, but, it was ours.”
He smiled. “She taught you the basic chords with it and you abused the poor instrument until your fingertips grew calluses on them.”
I laughed.
“And then my PC,” I said.” It was my father’s gift.
“And I can see how much you love it,” he said, after a pause.” For a moment there, you looked pensive.”
I was silent. I remember the day we purchased it, and my heart ached with the memory.
“Anyway,” I said. “I have the CDs and the sketch pad Rein gave me.”
“To which I don’t need to ask why,” he said.
I laughed.
“And then my cellular phone” I said.
“Which you purchased with your very own hard-earned salary,” he agreed.
Cy10.13.05