About the Author
Former Journalist
Lily Parker
Hi, I’m Lily Parker from the Planet Life editorial team. As a former journalist, I’ve honed my research skills, and I’m passionate about exploring global cultures. I write about unique traditions and fascinating customs from around the world. My goal is to spark your curiosity and show you a different side of the planet.
Dust-Covered Shoebox
I was cleaning out my grandmother Evelyn’s house. The attic smelled of old wood and musty blankets, the air so thick with dust it made me cough. As I steadied myself on the ladder, my hand brushed against a worn shoebox. The tape had dried and peeled, the corners were warped, and only a faint pencil mark remained: the letter “E.” Inside were folded newspapers, scattered photographs, and one heavy envelope. On its face, written in blue ink: “Open if you’re ever lost.” Sunlight slanted through the skylight, catching the floating dust. That afternoon in Seattle, I pressed the envelope to my chest, feeling its weight rise and fall with my heartbeat.
Addressed to My Name
The seal was red wax. The name written on the front: “To Maya Collins.” My name. The envelope bore no postmark, only the faint scuff of a fountain pen at the edges. A separate slip of paper carried a single date: 1968. Ink from more than twenty years before I was born seemed almost damp in the fibers of the page. My grandmother’s handwriting was precise yet hurried, her letters trembling in places. I fetched a butter knife from the kitchen, hesitating as the tip hovered over the wax. When I finally cracked it open, the sound was far softer than I expected.
