Heart pounding, I leaned in and started clearing the dirt with my hands, brushing it aside until I could see what was hidden beneath the rosebush.
My fingers scraped something.
Wood? No… metal.
My breath caught in my throat as I realized that this wasn’t just a plant Grandma wanted moved.
She had buried something.
The moment I brushed away the last of the dirt and saw the edge of that rusted iron box, my breath caught. It was wedged tightly into the soil, larger than any tin I had imagined. I dropped the spade and leaned in, heart thudding in my chest.
My gloves were slick with sweat as I dug around the sides until I could finally pull the box free.
It was heavier than it looked and crusted with age. A thick, corroded clasp sealed it shut. I sat back on my heels, gripping the lock with both hands, trying to pry it open.
My palms ached from the effort, but I refused to stop.
“Come on,” I whispered, gritting my teeth as I tugged again.
With a sudden snap, the clasp gave way. I stumbled slightly, nearly dropping the box, but managed to steady it on my knees. The lid creaked open.
Inside, everything was carefully arranged.
Continue reading…
