Day 31
It’s a little round ceramic box with a little round ceramic bear on top. Wherever I move, I carry that little round ceramic box with me. It’s always one of the last things I pack (if I pack it at all), thoughtfully and carefully. If there was ever a fire, it’d be the first thing I’d grab. It is my most prized earthly possession, but not because of the box itself; because of what it contains.
Inside is a tiny rosebud. You wouldn’t know it anymore to look at it – it’s a jumble of brown shriveled petals that look like they’ve been through the washer. They have, actually. Once, I wrapped the box in a sweatshirt to protect it during a move. I forgot that it was inside it the shirt and threw it in the laundry machine. The rose came though the spin cycle surprisingly well and I managed to salvage most of it and return it to its proper place – inside the box. It’s very clean.
You’ve probably guessed by now that this is not just any rose. Oh, no. It’s a very old rose – as old as I am. This rose was the one that my father gave his little girl on the day I was born. And so whenever I open up that little round ceramic box, I don’t just see a bunch of shriveled petals.
I see my daddy’s love for me.
Made for Eternity 
so…since you were walking by culby, you’re in chicago right now? or were you just talking about remembering that? if you’re in chicago you should visit our crib!