We have this chest. This beautiful, dark wood, massive chest. On the inside, there is a heart. A heart my husband carved along with our initials.
It holds the story of us. A series of moments that make up our love. Letters from the time my husband spent at war, plane tickets, mementos from vacations, photos from a decade and a half ago. It is my most treasured possession.
It hasn't been opened for ages. Before kids, we used to look through it often and reminisce about our story. Right now it's being used as a shelf to hold our daughter's swaddles and books. This multi useful piece of our heart. The time we carved aside to reminisce has slowly been replaced with extra loads of laundry, beautifully loud children and the humdrum of everyday life. But it's there. Like our love. And it will be there when all of our children have grown. When the walls are quiet and clean and the house is boring. That little reminder of our love that quietly sits in our room until we have time to add to the story of us.