Grandads’ Old Suitcase

Day 13’s Prompt: write about finding something.

After Grandads passing the time came to split all his worldly possessions between his four children. Uncles, Aunties and cousins filled my Grandfathers home, I found this an utter intrusion, I was angry, most of them never came to visit when Grandad was alive and here there were traipsing through all the rooms and taking what they liked. The worst came when my Dads siblings started dividing up Grandmas Lladro ornaments. Grandma had always wanted the entire collection to go to my Mother, those wishes were ignored.

I had to escape all the scavenging in the living room so I slipped into Grandads bedroom, he had kept it just as it had been when Grandma had been alive. The bed was pristinely made, the curtains draped just so and on the dressing table lay all Grandmas soft brushes and mirrors. I carefully picked up her looking glass and imagined my Grandmother doing the same years before. On the dresser sat another Lladro ornament, this one was of a young barefoot girl, I remember Grandad telling me a story about how far she had walked with a stone in her shoe. I admired her delicate features and graceful pose as my Auntie walked in and took the ornament from me.

I so desperately wanted to take something, something of Grandads that I could cling on to. That’s when I stumbled across one of Grandads old suitcases. Whenever he came to visit he always brought his brown leather suitcase, containing neatly folded shirts and vests, his electric razor and his old spice. If I came home from school and found this sitting in the hallway it brightened my day because it meant Grandad was here, with me!

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The suitcase is a little beaten up, it’s lid is sagging, the lock doesn’t work and the lining is discoloured. That doesn’t matter to me, I take it on my travels across the country and delight when people ask me about my tatty bag. I revel in any excuse to talk about my Grandfather, whom I will forever love and cherish.


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