my parents' wedding album—found in the final cleaning of my father's house

This afternoon I joined my father at the family home for one more clean out. It was the attic this time, my sister's things, the leftover tools in the furnace room. Enough to fill the garage, once again, with bags and boxes and mountains of trash.

Every cleaning has offered its reward. This time the reward was gigantic, and unexpected. My parents' wedding album. Stuffed on a shelf in an attic beside an old microscope and beneath a box of bleached sand dollars.

I snapped these photos quickly.

Aren't they beautiful? And didn't my grandparents have style? And look at the kiss my grandmother gives my mother.

Treasure.