It was pennies in a jar, odd nails and pieces of copper wires strew inside a tool box.
The comical drawing with the block lettered caption that he’d given to her as a child that made her smile.
His most treasured possessions neatly stored, perfectly lined up and in their place, a habit never lost from his army days made her first tears fall.
The box of vinyl records, when vinyl was not retro but new, was stacked in a corner of the closet labeled ‘Dad’s stuff’. It sat sadly next to the beautiful but now silent, Koch accordion and its lonely companion an M. Hohner harmonica, remnants of the music that had once filled her childhood.
Her hand trailed over the alphabetized shelf of dusty eight tracks. Decades of music tapes painstakingly arranged. The songs played in her mind as she read the song titles and the music mingled with his laughter, his easy smile and twinkling blue-grey eyes and she caught her breath on a sob.
Her hand touched the sleeve of his favorite shirt carefully hung among his clothes and she breathed in the faint hint of his cologne and noticed that his heavy winter coat on its sturdy wooden hanger still outlined the man.
Her tears flowed freely now as she stood amid his music, his treasures wanting back the sun filled days of his laughter.
She reached out and pressed the playback button on the old recorder childishly wishing for a rewind but knowing the only play back she’d be granted were her cherished memories of her dad…