Hidden treasure

I’d held on to an old landscape painting of my late grandmother’s only because I liked the frame

- KELLY GALLAGHER, SCOTIA, NEW YORK

Just a little further. Just a little further…

I reached up to push the plastic box just one more centimeter to the left to reach something in my crafts closet. One centimeter too far, it turned out. Avalanche! Everything came crashing down—scrapbook paper, glue sticks, beads, unfinished projects, markers, yarn, all scattered across the hardwood floor.

My husband, Alan, came running in. “What happened?”

“I was getting something out of the crafts closet,” I said. “I thought I needed a project to give me a lift.”

Alan looked at the mess. “I guess you found one,” he said. “Cleaning up.”

“Ha ha,” I said, but Alan had a point. Obviously the closet needed organizing if I wanted to avoid more disasters like this one. Sometimes straightening up could soothe my spirits too. I started pulling things out: Boxes, bags, baskets…what was that in the back? Something made of wood? Oh, yeah.

I pulled out a large dusty painting. Normally I loved landscape paintings, but the forest in this one was too dark and solemn to go on my walls. The only reason I had it was because it had belonged to my grandmother. It seemed like yesterday I was gathered with my family at her house after her funeral. “I know it would make sense to have a yard sale,” my dad said as he looked around at all of Grandma’s belongings. “But I’d feel better knowing her things are with us. Everyone look around and see what you want to take.”