The Wild Ways Parents Preserve Their Kids’ Memories
The large, wooden box on the floor of my mom’s bedroom reminded me of a pirate’s treasure chest. We were never allowed to open it ourselves, but every so often, my mother would sit my sisters and me down to share the booty within: locks of our hair, worn photographs of us sitting on Santa’s lap, pictures we drew that she couldn’t bear to part with, a ceramic pig I made in grade school. Her face would soften as she would recount the details of each piece.
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[fa type=»file-text»] Fuente: New York Times