To The Person Who Stole My Grandma's Trunk

Dear You,

I am writing to you today a note that is probably very overdue. Undoubtedly,  this happened days, weeks, even months ago, but it wasn't until this morning that I was affected by your actions. I arrived at my storage unit to find a lock that wasn't mine, a key that wouldn't fit. I asked the manager if he knew anything about it and he did not. After double and triple checking ownership of storage unit A-102 in Franklin, Tennessee, he cut the lock and we ventured inside. I wasn't immediately aware of any thing wrong, but then I noticed blankets piled neatly on a stack of boxes. Blankets that had before been stored in an antique trunk given to me by my grandma, my Ammo.  My heart plummeted as I looked deeper into the small room, desperately searching, praying to be wrong. But, I wasn't.  The trunk was gone.

I want you to know what you have. I want you to understand the value of the prize you now show friends, or have sold for a profit, not so you feel guilty but so you appreciate it fully. That wasn't just an old antique trunk, it was a gift. You see, my grandma is one of my heros. She is one of the strongest, most dependable,  fun,  caring, beautiful, steadfast women I have ever known. Every time I saw that trunk, I remembered whose family I belonged to.  It was a sign of strength, a point of inspiration and identity. I would see it in my living room, holding the bouquets from my sister's wedding, and remember long days spent playing with her and my cousins, my first best friends. I loved to think about finding it in her house and letting my imagination run wild with thoughts of the treasure that could be inside. I remembered her bravery and determination to rescue us when we were held captive in our own home. I remembered the sanctuary that was Grandma's house, a place filled with so much love, I used to believe I could actually see it in the air. I used it to store my extra pillows and blankets.  When I was cold, I would take out a blanket and I would be warmed to my core as I sat on my couch, and breathed in the smell of my grandma's house that still clung to the fabric.

You didn't take a trunk, you took a beloved treasure. I hope if you still have it, it brings just as much joy to you as it brought me. I hope it takes on the scent of your life so one day, when you pass it on,  your grandkids feel your love so tangibly when they need it most. If you've sold it, I pray the money made the ends meet and that it multiples to end your worries and stress.


This trunk did not hold resentment or hate, it only held love. I hope you are covered in that love every time you see it.