Sometimes a simple act of kindness doesn’t come in a box – Orange County Register

On the evening when my kitty slipped out the door into the night, I had been sorting boxes on the deck. It was part of my clean out the garage project. Set a few boxes on the deck, where I could see them through the french doors of my office, and finally feel guilty enough to proceed with the task.

In the fuss and fright of retrieving Larky Patarky before a coyote did, the boxes were left unattended. A few days later, with a rainstorm expected, my boxes got moved into my office. If seeing them out the windowed doors every day didn’t inspire me to get on with the task, surely tripping over them on the way to my desk every day would do the trick.

It didn’t happen.

So I set an impossible deadline for myself. I would complete the project by the first night of Hanukah, December 22. Since the grandchildren and their parents were coming to celebrate with me I thought maybe I could find memory treasures to share with them.

I did try.

The first box contained George’s essays and assignments from his two-room schoolhouse in southern Illinois. Unaware that midnight had come and gone, I sat cross-legged on the floor and continued reading. I laughed and cried at the insight of the little boy who would someday become my husband.

Then it hit me.