The Chest

A faint stream of light pierced the dirty window and traveled along the dusty attic floor. It came to rest at the feet of a young teenage girl who sat surrounded by boxes full of old photographs, musty books, and various trinkets. The dust swirled in the soft gleam of light as she took each object from its cardboard safe and gently wiped it clean. She loved to sit among these old treasures, for they transplanted her into another time-a time where young women dressed up for tea parties and took long carriage rides with their beaus. She imagined that she was one of those pretty young ladies in the black and white photographs, wearing a beautiful dress and sitting properly in the garden. Smiling, she leaned back on her hands and took a deep breath, savoring the warm, musty taste of the air. Of all the rooms in her grandmother’s house, the attic was Jenna’s favorite. It was as if the past still lived there, beckoning her to immerse herself in that world.

As she looked about the room, her eyes came to rest on an old, wooden chest tucked back in a corner. Barely visible under the dirty white sheet that lay over it, the chest would not have even been noticeable but to a knowing eye. And to Jenna’s eyes, the chest produced an allurement she could not resist. She quickly approached it and flung away its covering. There was nothing spectacular about the piece of furniture. It possessed no intricacies, no innate elegance. The hinges were rusted, making it extremely difficult to open. In fact, it was quite common in every way, and except for the scratches that covered the chest’s top, there were no defining features at all.

Ah yesâÂ?¦the scratches. Jenna smiled as she remembered the story. She was six years old and staying at her grandmother’s house for a week during the summer. She remembered the excitement she felt when she first saw the chest, sitting quietly in the corner of the study. Though she still could not explain it, Jenna had always had a fascination with the common box. There was just something about it-something mysterious. It was as if it were holding an important secret that its plain appearance was trying desperately to hide.

But whatever the reason, Jenna loved the chest and, at six years of age, decided to claim it as her own in the only way she knew how. Taking a pen from her grandmother’s desk, she determinedly began to etch her name into the soft wood. She successfully wrote JENN and half of A before her grandmother caught her. Jenna winced as she remembered the look on her grandmother’s face-saddened with grief and disappointment. It was not until years later that Jenna found out that the chest had been hand-carved by her great-grandfather, who gave it as a wedding present to his only daughter. Through the years, it had held some of her grandmother’s most priceless possessions-baby clothes, old photographs, and a handmade quilt that had been handed down over generations.

Jenna sighed as she knelt and slowly opened the chest’s lid. The hinges creaked loudly, shattering the silence that filled the attic. As she looked into the empty box, she smiled as she remembered her grandmother’s proud face as she told Jenna about the chest serving as a makeshift cradle for her first newborn child, Jenna’s mother.

“Your grandfather and I were quite poor for a time and could not afford a proper cradle. So we decided to use this chest for your mother’s bed. It turned out that your mother just loved that chest. She would fuss all night long if we put her down to sleep anywhere else.”

Closing the lid gently, Jenna stood quietly and once again gazed about the room. Perhaps that was why Jenna loved this old box so much. The history and love it embodied captured her heart, filling her with a desire to make it a part of her life.

“Jenna! Time to go!”

Her mother’s voice broke the calm silence and jerked Jenna from her reverie. She sighed as she ran her fingers one last time over the deep grooves and then replaced the white sheet. Someday this will be mine, she thought as she crossed the room to the narrow staircase that led down to the second floor of the house. Giving the chest one last longing look, she went to join her mother.

***

Jenna found her mother in the living room, surrounded by piles of boxes.

“Come on honey,” she said enthusiastically. “Time to load up!”

Jenna sighed and trudged over to the boxes. She was tired of packing her grandmother’s things and hauling them all over the place. As she carried box after box to the car, Jenna’s attitude became increasingly sour.

Why does Grandma have to move in with us anyway? Why in the world doesn’t mom just put her in a home?

To Jenna, having her grandmother live with her was a nightmare. She was constantly in the way, asking the same, dumb questions over and over again.

“Where is my husband?”

“Where is my dog?”

“Why can’t I go home?”

Jenna slammed the car door shut. So annoying! she thought bitterly to herself. She had already talked to her mother about her feelings, telling her that Grandma would be better off in a home for the elderly.

“After all,” Jenna had told her mom, “Grandma would have lots of friends and she would have people to take care of her 24 hours a day!”

“But honey,” her mother had pleaded. “She’s my mom and it’s my duty to take care of her. She loved me and took care of me for so many years, and now it’s my turn. I know it’s going to be difficult for you, but please Jenna! I need your help and understanding with this. Please! It’s not like she’s a stranger-she’s your grandmother, after all!”

“But that’s just the point!” Jenna had yelled back through her tears. “She is a stranger! I don’t even know her anymore! She’s just an annoying person who is ruining my life!”

Jenna cringed as she remembered her words and the horrified look that had covered her mother’s face. But it was true. She couldn’t help how she felt. Her grandmother was ruining her life. She couldn’t even bring friends over to the house for fear of being embarrassed by her grandmother’s bizarre actions. And every time she wanted to go out, it seemed like her mother needed help with something pertaining to Grandma.

Why me? Jenna thought as she fought back hot tears. But she quickly masked her frustrations as she finished loading the boxes and climbed into the car next to her mother. She had already spoken her thoughts and nothing had changed. There was no need to harp on the subject. As they drove away from the house, Jenna could not help but think of the attic and the chest, longing to be back in that world, away from everything and everyone else, especially her grandmother.

***

As the car sped along the highway, Jenna looked out the window, lost in thought. Though it had only been a couple of months since her grandmother had been diagnosed with Alzheimer’s, Jenna struggled to accept the reality of the disease. As hard as she tried to deny it, she knew that it had been coming. Ever since her grandfather had died two years ago, Jenna noticed that there was something different about her grandmother. Her memory began to decline, and her overall demeanor started to change as well. She became frustrated more easily, especially when she couldn’t recall certain facts and events. She just wasn’t the same happy, funny grandmother that Jenna remembered.

Jenna took a deep breath and settled herself against the seat, closing her eyes. Thoughts regarding her grandmother raced through her mind. She remembered the first time that she had really started noticing the problems. It had been less than a year ago when she had showed up at her grandmother’s house for an unexpected visit. She had been so excited about surprising her grandmother and spending time with her. But as soon as she had arrived, Jenna knew something was wrong. A very neat and proper lady, Jenna’s grandmother always looked her best, even if she didn’t expect visitors. But on that day, Jenna was greeted by a dirty, disheveled old woman. Her alarm continued to grow as she entered the house, finding it to be a mess with dishes and clothes strewn throughout the house. Something clearly was not right, but her grandmother did not seem to notice the disturbing change.

Jenna opened her eyes and stared blankly at the ceiling of the car. Since then, things had only gotten worse. Just yesterday, her grandmother had forgotten Jenna’s name altogether. How could she forget my name? Jenna thought bitterly. I‘m her only granddaughter for heaven’s sake! Though she knew in her heart that it was the effects of the disease, Jenna could not help but feel hurt by her grandmother’s lack of memory. I don’t care. She should still remember my name.

The car stopped in front of their modest brick house, which had a rose-covered picket fence surrounding the yard. It’s the picture of the ideal home, thought Jenna as she began to unload the car and walk slowly toward the house. Too bad that picture doesn’t extend to the inside.

***

Her grandmother was sitting in front of the television, watching videos of the television show “Little House on the Prairie” as Jenna and her mother entered the house. She’s always watching that show, Jenna thought. I bet she’s watching the episode when Mr. Edwards fights the winter storm to bring Christmas presents to the Ingalls, who live in a little cabin out in the middle of nowhere. Sure enough, Jenna heard the familiar line, “Santa!” as Mr. Edwards entered the Ingalls’ house. Oh brother, thought Jenna as she carried the boxes to the basement.

When she came back up the stairs, Jenna heard her mother trying to convince her defiant grandmother that she had in fact already eaten dinner and did not need another meal.

“I have NOT eaten,” declared her grandmother, rather hotly. “Honestly. Sometimes I think you people are trying to starve me!”
Jenna rolled her eyes. This was a argument that occurred frequently throughout each day. Her mother spent so much time arguing with her grandmother that having her live with them seemed to cause more harm than good.

“No! I do not need a bath!” her grandmother yelled from the other room.

Here we go again, thought Jenna as she hurriedly left the room and retreated to the calmness of her bedroom.

***

It was not until later that evening that Jenna emerged from her room and made her way to the living room where her grandmother sat calmly on the couch, reading a letter from a friend. Her silvery hair was still wet from the bath that Jenna’s mother had managed to give her, and it dripped water down onto the letter as she read. Jenna sank into the chair across from her and studied her carefully. From the photographs she had seen, Jenna knew her grandmother had been a very lovely lady during her younger years. Yet age and experience had taken their toll, and deep wrinkles covered her once beautiful face.

Getting older is such a depressing reality, Jenna thought sadly. As she watched her grandmother read, she noticed that the letter was the same one that her grandmother had read at least four times the day before. As amusing as it was, Jenna did not laugh. If it had been a month ago, she probably would have laughed out loud. But now, things like this just annoyed her. Sighing, Jenna settled back in the comfortable chair and tried to ignore the negative thoughts that kept crowding her mind.

“Hi Jenna. I didn’t see you there. How are you, honey?” Her grandmother’s voice broke Jenna’s train of thought.

Raising her head, Jenna noticed her grandmother smiling at her, eyes sparkling. Well, at least she remembered my namethis time, thought Jenna, still resentful about the previous day’s mishap.

“Oh hey, Grandma.” Jenna said as she struggled to sit up properly in the overstuffed chair. “I’m fine. Just trying to relax.”

“Good for you,” her grandmother replied. “Kids your age definitely run themselves ragged and need their rest.” She smiled broadly and patted the empty seat next to her on the couch.

Trying to appear enthusiastic, Jenna wrenched herself from her chair and plopped down next to her grandmother.

“So tell me, honey, what have you been up to?” her grandmother asked.

Why do you need to know? Jenna thought negatively. You won’t remember anything I say in a couple of minutes.

“Oh, I don’t know,” Jenna said nonchalantly. “School mostly.”

She hated these conversations with her grandmother, because nothing she said was ever remembered. Her mind went back to the times when she would sit and talk with her grandmother about everything-school, boys, frustrations with parents and friends. But now, what was the point? In her mind, these conversations were useless, just like her grandmother.

Her mind recoiled at this thought. Grandma useless?Perhaps that was a little harsh. Sure, she’s sick, but that doesn’t make her useless, does it? But the more she thought about it, the more she realized she did think of her grandmother as useless. And interestingly enough, she didn’t feel sorry for believing it. It’s just a reality that comes with old age, Jenna thought sadly. That’s just the way life is.

“Jenna? Did you hear me dear?”

Jenna jerked back to reality, finding herself staring into the confused face of her grandmother.

“UmâÂ?¦.I’m sorry.” Jenna said, fumbling for words. “What did you ask?”

“I just wanted to know how you were doing.”

Though she did now know why, Jenna became instantly annoyed at her grandmother’s request. After all, she knew it was coming. Grandma always asks the same questions over and over again. Why am I so annoyed?

“OhâÂ?¦.I’m fine Grandma.”

“I’m glad to hear it, honey,” she said happily. “So what have you been up to?”

I can’t take this anymore, thought Jenna as frustration and anger welled up inside her. I have to get out of here.

“Not much,” she replied curtly. She then added hastily, “Well, Grandma, I think I’m going to bed. A girl has to get her beauty sleep!”

“Of course, dear,” her grandmother replied, giving her a kiss on the cheek and then picking up the worn letter to read it once again.

Jenna hurriedly stood up and raced back to her room, slamming the door behind her. She wanted to scream, but found she couldn’t. As the tears began to fall, she jumped onto her bed and buried her face into the pillow, pounding her fist into the mattress.

“Why?” she asked repeatedly as the tears continued to fall. “Why?”

***

Jenna’s frustration with her grandmother only continued to grow over the passing months. Her mother finally gave up asking her for help, and Jenna spent most of her time out with her friends or locked up in her room. Every time she even looked at her grandmother, she became irritated. Though she knew she was being unfair, she didn’t care. And why should I care? Jenna stubbornly thought. She hardly even knows who I am anymore!

So when the call came, telling her that her grandmother had suffered a stroke and was in critical condition, Jenna reacted with barely any sympathy. As she sat next to her grandmother’s bed and watched her slip away, Jenna couldn’t help but feel relieved. After all, her grandmother was not the same person she once was. Her memory was gone, and her personality had changed considerably over the last few months.

It’s her time to go, Jenna thought as she looked at her grandmother’s pale, wrinkled face. After all, she’s going to better place, and my life is going to be so much simpler and better once she’s gone. Yet she still felt somewhat ashamed of that happiness. Am I a bad person for thinking this way? Jenna pushed this thought out of her mind. No. She wasn’t a bad person. Her life had been turned upside down since her grandmother had become sick and moved in with her family. I have a right to feel this way.

Her grandmother died within a week. Jenna found herself helping her distraught mother make the funeral preparations and providing her with encouragement. The services were small, with only family and close friends attending. Jenna kept thinking that she should cry, but she couldn’t will herself to do it. The fact was, she was happy that her grandmother was gone. Now life could be normal again.

As she placed a flower on her grandmother’s casket and paid her last respects, Jenna tried to remember all the good memories she had of her grandmother-the tea parties in the garden, the sleepovers, the funny stories she used to tell. She would miss the memory of her grandmother, but she would not mourn. Life would be better now, and as she left the burial site, she couldn’t help but let a small smile creep across her face.

***

It had been a month since the funeral, and once again Jenna found herself in the lonely attic of her grandmother’s house. Her mother had decided to sell the house and everything had to go. Much of the furniture and boxes had already been taken downstairs to be loaded into the moving truck. Some of it would be sold at auctions or to antique dealers, while the rest would go home with Jenna and her mother.

Jenna had returned for one reason-to get the old, scratched chest that she loved so much. Her mother let her choose one piece of furniture from among her grandmother’s collection, and Jenna picked the chest without hesitation. As she once again traced the scratches with her fingers, she became engrossed with the history it represented and did not hear her mother come up behind her.

“There you are!” her mother said, placing her hands lovingly on Jenna’s shoulders. “Did you find what you were looking for?”
Jenna turned around and smiled broadly.

“Yes! Here it is!” She pointed to the dull looking chest and beamed.

“That’s what you chose?” her mother asked incredulously.

Taken back by her mother’s reaction, Jenna fumbled for a response.

“WellâÂ?¦yeah. I’ve always wanted it.”

“Oh, but-honey, I thought you would pick something with a little more value to it. I mean, this chest is worthless-it’s not even pretty. I forgot that it even existed. I was sure that your grandmother had thrown it out a long time ago.”

“But it’s not worthless or ugly at all!” Jenna protested. “It’sâÂ?¦it’s beautiful!”

“Honey, look at it!” her mother said, pointing to the deep scratches in the wood. “Its hinges are even broken. It really has outlived its use.”

“No!” Jenna said adamantly. “It is beautiful! It represents so much history, so much love. It doesn’t matter that it’s old or broken-it’s still useful because it reminds of us past experiences, past loves. Besides, it’s only this way because of its age, and what’s wrong with that anyway?”

Jenna stopped and covered her mouth with her hands. She looked at her mother, and then looked back at the chest. The scratches began to look like wrinkles, like the wrinkles on her grandmother’s face. And Jenna began to cry.