The Trunk

I inherited a trunk from my father. It was a steamer trunk. Old. Wore down. I had it for years. I'm not exactly sure how long I had it or how it really came to be in my possession. This trunk came to hold all the things I was ashamed to own but was even more ashamed to get rid of. It was more than just a trunk. It was my childhood.

This trunk... this dirty green trunk... it held the collection of dolls that I was given as a child. I don't remember ever even liking these porcelain dolls. These dolls with their blank eyes and their perfect features. The dolls that had costumes of victorian age or Native American attire. Not only did I not like them but I was scared of them. I was ashamed of them. I have no idea why. I just know that I put them in the trunk and never looked at them unless I had to go and add something else to the trunk. In this trunk that didn't even get a space in my home, I also hid my pageant trophies. The trophies for first place when there were only two of us in the pageant. The trophies that I hated because I hated dressing up and wearing makeup. I hated having attention drawn to myself. To earn these trophies I had to dress like Dolly Parton and pretend to have a talent for music or dance that I just did not possess. I knew I could not do it. I hated it. But I did it to please my mother and grandma.

The worse thing this trunk held... this trunk that I kept hidden in my storage building.... The snoopy's greatest statue that I was given by the monster who hurt me in a way no one ever would again. I kept it. I don't know why. I accepted it and I kept it. I loathed it.....

I kept this trunk for so long... I don't know when I finally got rid of it... rid of it and the contents that had given me such shame and but that I was bound to.... I don't know when but it is gone... The trunk is gone but the memories remain.