It was an old coffee tin with rust covering most of it.
He sat on the bed and opened it to find yellowing pages covered in an unintelligible scrawl. They were so old that they were disintegrating along the creases. He couldn’t understand what was stranger; the fact that she had kept them for so long or that someone had spent so much time writing them.
“What’s this?” He asked her as she entered the room.
“They’re letters your grandfather wrote to me.”
“Why didn’t he just type them?”
She laughed and ruffled the hair on her grandson’s teenage head.
So much is missed in generation gaps.
I loved hearing my parents’ stories of how they grew up listening to radio, Saturday night baths in tubs in the kitchen, shared bathrooms by the tenants on the same floor of the tenement, sleeping on the roofs and in parks during the summer, and on and on.. Randy
I agree. Sadly with the speed at which things move today the present generation doesn’t even realise the number of things we’re letting slip away.. There are so many times I wish I could go back in time….
Cute story-and pertinent.
Thank you 🙂
This is a warm delight.
So glad you like it. 🙂