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I’m not sure how long I had been sitting on the attic floor. Long enough for my crossed legs to become stiff and my allergies to start playing up.  The small window let in just enough light to be able to read. A single ray of sun shone through, almost like a spotlight it sat atop the small box. I was mesmerised as particles of dust swirled in the tunnel of light. They reminded me of the type of magic that comes from the tip of a wand in a fairytale.

With a slight groan I stood up and reached for the box.  It was pretty, with little crystals set in the lid. They still sparkled, even with a thick coating of dust. Even though the small hinges were rusted the lid opened easily. Inside six glass balls resting on a soft purple bed of velvet. Etched in the top of each was a name. The first Grandma, the second Aunt Ella, the next Dad. Instantly I felt a lump in my throat and the threat of tears.  Three years had passed and I still felt the same heartache. I ran my fingers gently over the etching.  Carefully I removed the ball from it’s spot, wrapping my fingers around it, I closed my eyes. Memories, so many memories. For the first time in a very long time it felt like my dad was still here.

A loud bang startled me, I almost jumped out of my skin, I knew if my mother caught me in the attic I would be in all sorts of trouble. The next sound I heard was the glass ball hitting the floor, smashing. Dread engulfed me, I felt as I had when I found out my dad was gone. Just for a little while, holding that ball had filled the my void. Tears started to roll down my cheeks, my breath caught in my throat, grief consumed me. It somehow had felt like if I could have kept it with me, I could have kept him with me. How careless, how stupid, I was so mad at myself. I looked to the floor, thinking at least I could keep the shattered pieces, but there was no glass.

I scanned the floorboards, confused.

Then I felt a warmth on my shoulder, it went through my whole body.  Oddly I didn’t feel scared. I took a step back and slowly turned around.   My expression spoke for me. There he stood, my beautiful dad, just as I remembered him. He smiled, I smiled, my first genuine smile since he left. He looked to his hand, my eyes instinctively followed. Taking my hand he placed the glass ball in it. I wrapped my fingers around it as though my life depended on it. Closing my eyes I vowed to always keep it safe. I heard my dad’s voice,  “I will always be with you”. ....

“Sass” my mums shrill voiced startled me, I opened my eyes, My dad was gone. But the ball, the ball was still in my hand.

“Are you in that damn attic again” ...