An Old Wooden Box
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In the basement of an old two story house, under a set of creaky stairs is a box. An old wooden box. The wood is warped in a few places, and the handle is rusted brown. The outside of the box is charred in places from a devastating fire. The smell of smoke still lingers on the contents.
The box belongs to three men. John Winchester, Dean Winchester, and little Sammy Winchester. Three men who no longer bare the resemblance to those whose things fill the inside of the box. The end of a life is in this old wooden box. A life gone, a life never meant to be.
When you first open the box you are greeted with pictures. Each picture, though different, all hold something in common. A picture of a wedding. A picture of a baby Dean, held in his mother's arms. A picture of two teenagers, happily in love. A picture of a brand new big brother, little brother cradled safely in his arms. A picture of family, John, Mary, Dean, and Little Sammy. The thing in common is often passed over. The thing in common is often taken for granted by others. The thing in common is the smiles on their faces. The thing in common is happiness.
If you dig deeper into the box you will find proof of the happiness they all once held. Things only they could cherish. Things only they know the meaning behind.
Under the pictures, wrapped in yellowed tissue paper, is a miss shaped form of green clay. When Dean was three he had made it for his mom, with the help of his dad, for mother's day. He gave it to her after jumping in bed with her, John not far behind with breakfast in bed.
Even further in the box is a smaller paper box. Inside wrapped neatly in more tissue paper is a heart shaped locket. John gave it to Mary the day Sam was born. Inside is not a picture, but an inscription. Our Love Will Never Die.
There is a rock laying in the very bottom of the box. A rock, that John holds close to his heart. When he was merely a love struck teenager, he would throw rocks at Mary's bedroom window. They would then sneak out, and nothing could stop them. The rock was the one, on one such occasion, that ruined a night of passion. Instead of alerting Mary to his presence outside, it caused an uproar as it smashed through the slick glass. Mary used to finger the rock, and small as she remember the police arriving.
Inside a small frame is a special picture. Though it is in black and white, it holds so much. It is a sonogram picture, Sam's first baby picture. It was a picture, that both Mary and John knew, would change the world.
An old wooden box, with a rusted handle, sits under the stairs in an old two story house. The box holds the once life of three very different men. Men who once knew for a tiny time what happiness was. Men who once were really not very different.
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