I open the box slowly and the rust covered hinges creak like the floors in a horror movie. The curved lid requires the wall to be propped against so I scoot the chest farther back on the floor. It’s been ages since I’ve touched the dust contents of the chest. I reach my hand into the dimly lit box and pull out a ball. I toss it between both hands as the dust fall off the smooth rubber surface revealing the neon green below. The ball drops from my hands and bounces against the floor twice before rolling along the floor, slightly deflated. I watch it roll into a corner and pick up the next item. It’s a small Tupperware. The bin is square and mostly translucent so that you can see the legos crammed it under the red lid. I peel back the plastic lid slowly and find the cracks across the top to break a little more. I shuffle my hand threw the pieces finding them warm and some even broken.

That’s most of what’s left on my time with my grandmother: broken pieces, and deflated toys.