Sorting through the past and creating new narratives.

This past weekend, I opened my mom’s cedar hope chest and removed everything inside. Many times I’ve expressed the desire to move it along, but I wasn’t ready. It doesn’t really fit any rooms in my house, and it’s taking up a space where I’d like to put a chair. I’ve moved it with me to five different homes. I’ve used the hope chest as a coffee table, a TV stand, and a place to set a basket for my cat. 

My parents bought a new bedroom set, which included the hope chest, when our family moved into a big new house in the 1960s. My dad was making money as an insurance agent, and things were looking up for us then, before the divorce. For almost 30 years the hope chest sat at the end of her bed. When Mom downsized…