In The Mirror
Stowing the shovel away in the tool shed, I made my way to the house. Opening the cellar doors, I followed the old stone stairway into its depths. The musty cellar air always reminded me of my childhood when my father took me down with him after coming in from the field.
Dad always had some odd little trinkets in a leather sack that would catch my attention. He would have me hold the oil lamp as he pulled one of the stones out from the cellar wall where a heavy strongbox was concealed. “This here is our family’s treasure”, he would say with a grin. “You must always keep the secret of it boy”, was his continuing admonishment to me.
The box was filled with gold chains, rings, earrings, gemstones and many old looking coins. There were other small bits of gold that had strangely familiar shapes to them, hollow and thin. Later, I would not only come to know what each piece of our ‘treasure’ was, but also how to go about adding to it.
I removed the leather sack from my waistband and placed its contents into the strongbox. Pushing the rock back into its recess, I left the cellar and went into the house to wash up. I soon found myself wanting for a little tune and a dance or two, so I gave the music box a crank, sat back in dad’s old easy chair and dozed off for a while.
Dad would be so proud.
...just bein' Bluesy