I haven't found today's theme easy.
I thought hard about my most treasured item, and I couldn't really narrow it down to just one item, but to each item carefully packed away in Florence's memory box.
I thought maybe sometime today I might open her box and photo the contents, but I couldn't.
I don't open that box very often.
While re arranging my bedroom at the weekend I moved her memory box, her books, her cards and her paperwork all to a new shelf at the foot of my bed.
The only way I can get the memory box onto or off the shelf is by moving a large underbed storage box of shoes and then sliding the box under my bed and out.
It feels secure there...though it has crossed my mind that in a fire I might have to leave it behind.
I rarely look in the box, everything is packed so neatly, and it's all so precious, I don't want to disturb it, and honestly I don't want to share photos of the precious items inside.
I'm not sure, even Woody knows what is in there. I don't think anyone besides me has ever looked in it.
I can tell you, there is the nappy, gown,hat and blanket she was wrapped in when they took her for the post mortem.
I can tell you, that those items came back washed in some foul smelling detergent.
There is the half finished sweater I was knitting in labour, some snips of her hair, a dress I so wanted to dress my summer baby in; and more besides.
The box is lined with rose scented paper, the smell is divine. If I do open it I breath in that scent and there she is, just for a moment, a fleeting second, and I can almost feel the warmth of her skin, and the weight of her in my arms.
In the top of the box sits sweet little Beatrice Bunny.
I've written about her before, she's tattered and torn from her escapades at the cemetery, but she's in there, and there she will stay.