Prolog
-Present Day: 12th
August 2016, Puerto Rico.
My fingers ran softly against the grain of the wooden cabinet, it
was beautiful a chest so strong, so solid. The pattern was of
roses, cascading over each other, sculptured to unmistakable
perfection. I sighed peacefully, remembering fondly when my
father had finished carving this, he spent many an hour, blood
and sweat into making it for me, and it held so many memories, so
many tears.
The cast iron lock had seen many a day, but had never tarnished,
its deep black strength still as magnificent as it was that day -
15 years ago. It took my father since the day that I was born,
till my 15th birthday to finish it, I suppose it's always true
what they say, a builders house is never finished, and a
carpenters furniture is always half done. I chuckled to myself as
I slowly unlocked the secrets that were hidden so far into it. It
would be my 30th birthday in a week, but I felt nearly 60. I have
3 kids, and a lost memory of a far from happy marriage.
As I lifted the heavy lid of the chest my eyes were drawn to the
carving on the top of the lid:
Nothing
will come of nothing. Dare mighty things" - Shakespeare
I dared many mighty things in my life, but most of the times I
lost the battle.
Fingering through the contents was like dredging the hidden
treasures of the ocean, so full of memories, so full of heartache
and joy. How one chest could contain a lifetime of memories to
most seems impossible, but not to me, why? Because they're my
memories. Each one, still in my mind and still in my heart.
Picking up the scrapbook made by and excited 15 year-old was a
memory unto itself. I opened to the first page, and instantly
recognized the date scribed across the first page in thick gold
ink.
January 23, 2001