There comes a moment in every stage of life when we find ourselves opening an old box. Inside are photographs whose corners have curled with age, letters written in handwriting no longer seen, medals, report cards, wedding invitations, perhaps a favorite recipe written on an index card stained by decades of use. We smile. We remember. Then, almost instinctively, we put everything back. The box returns to the closet. The stories remain locked inside. 

For years I believed those objects were the family treasures we would one day leave behind. Lately, I have come to a different conclusion. The treasure was never in the box. It was in the stories the box awakened.

Over the past several weeks, I have embarked on an unexpected journey. At first, I thought I was preserving memories for my children and grandchildren. I imagined I was creating something they might one day enjoy reading. What actually happened surprised me. I was not merely remembering my life. I was discovering it. One recollection quietly led to another. My grandfather........

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