Mom's box of memories

In my office there is a box under a chair in the corner:

In that box are old photos, cards, newspaper clippings, and assorted stuff.  There are childhood pictures of my grandmother, father, me and my sons...a generational catalog of kids, parents, and relatives. It is an odd accumulation of things taken from my childhood home and my adult home.  Right now it lives under my chair, waiting for a new home. It doesn't carry all my life, not even close. But everything in there is important to me, whether it is a picture of flowers in my grandmother's garden or a scrawled thank you note from my sons to my mother, their grandmother.

Yesterday I needed to go to my storage unit to get some camping gear. Since I have not packed the unit very well, I had to dig through things a bit to find everything I wanted.  Along the way I ran across a small plastic box, about the size of a shoebox, containing cards and letters I had sent to my mother as a child.  There were Mother's Day cards, a Christmas card, a few other notes from school and camp.  Even a plaster of paris impression of my 3 year old hand.

The most recent items are some letters from my first trip to sleep-away camp, written almost exactly 47 years ago.

I knew the box was there, I've looked through it before, but finding it again yesterday was a sweet moment. What struck me this time was one card with a few odd line "drawings."  An early attempt at either people or flowers.  There were no personal identifying marks, but on the back my mother, in her perfect script, had written, "Chris." Clearly she had noted this at the time, 50 some odd years ago,  had thought to remember who had made this gift for her. 

I have no idea what the occasion was, where or why I made the card. Its construction was before my memory.  But, seeing my name attached to it made it clear that my mother remembered it. Why did she keep this one card?  Was it the first one I made?

I know I can't remember making most of those cards, but I do remember that girl, Chris.  I remember what it was like to be her.  She was okay. Confident in her abilities, firm in her resolve, and loved by those in her life.