During the past week I've commandeered a spare bedroom and re-purposed it as my play room/office/toy emporium. I haven't had an office for years, and have missed having my toys scattered about.
After a couple of trips hauling treasures from the basement I spent a blissful afternoon hanging pictures, polishing toys, reliving the memories which caused me to save most to this junk in the first place, when I came across one of my most favored treasures. A treasure box made for me by #2 son for Christmas 1983. It has been stored for too long a time.
The timing must have been kismet.
Inside the box is the usual collection of cards, letters, ticket stubs, remembrances of things past. At the top of the heap was packet of photos, I'd forgotten about long ago.
The photo above is of my father, taken at his parents home not long after D Day. His destroyer escort was sunk during the invasion, killing all but 20 officers and men on board. The photo was taken as my dad was in route to his new station, an air craft carrier in the Pacific. It was during this leave he proposed to my future mother.
Thank a vet.
13 minutes ago