Approximately 15 years ago, I crafted a colorful wooden box filled with various items, including a newspaper and some photographs—though I can’t recall all the specifics. Atop the box, I placed a letter addressed to my daughter, inscribed with “To be opened on your 18th birthday.” It is adorned with a delicate ribbon for safekeeping. My younger daughter has a similar capsule made two years later, both of which are tucked away in their respective souvenir boxes in the crawlspace.
When I first created these time capsules, I felt a thrill at the thought of my daughters unearthing them one day, reflecting on the memories and experiences that shaped their early years. I envisioned their delight and perhaps amusement at the items I chose to include. However, it is the contents of the letters that now fill me with concern.
A year before my eldest daughter, Emily, was born, I experienced a miscarriage—a deeply painful experience. In search of closure, I penned a heartfelt letter to my lost child, expressing a mix of joy, sorrow, and farewell. Recently, I revisited that letter, and it struck me how emotional it was. If my time capsule letters are anything like it, they will undoubtedly contain profound sentiments. I likely conveyed my excitement and the overwhelming love I felt as I anticipated the arrival of my daughters.
Regrettably, I may have included references to “your father and me,” along with family photographs. This prospect troubles me; I worry that revealing too much about our family’s history at once could be overwhelming. If they read those letters, they might be confronted with the stark contrasts between their past and present lives, including the reality of their parents’ divorce.
Despite the challenges they’ve faced, both girls are thriving—healthy, sweet, and academically motivated, unlike some of their peers. They were aware of their time capsules at one point, but it seems they may have forgotten about them. I’m now faced with several options regarding how to handle the capsules.
One possibility is to open them alone and review the contents, deciding whether to alter anything before they discover them. Another approach could involve waiting until after their 18th birthdays when I believe they may be better equipped to process the emotions stirred by the letters. A third option is to open the first capsule upon Emily’s 18th birthday, observing her reaction before deciding on the second one. However, this feels unfair to her, so I may discard this route.
Alternatively, I could let them open the capsules as originally intended and see what transpires. Lastly, there’s the option of not allowing them to see the time capsules at all. While none of these choices excite me, I find them more honest than pre-screening the letters. When I sealed the envelopes and tied them with ribbons, I intended them as future gifts for my daughters.
The challenge lies in determining when to stop shielding them from life’s harsher realities. It feels instinctive to protect them indefinitely, considering the world can often be unkind. Perhaps I need to reflect on why I created these time capsules: every child enjoys hearing “The Story of You.” My daughters frequently inquire about their early years and cherish the “funny books” I’ve compiled, filled with their adorable anecdotes.
By altering or denying access to the time capsules, am I depriving them of their narrative, or have I adequately chronicled their lives through journals, photos, and stories? Each capsule encapsulates a moment in time, representing not just my feelings for them but also the essence of our family’s journey.
Ultimately, I find myself leaning towards postponing the unveiling for a few more years. They may be better prepared to understand the context of these letters when they encounter their own significant life events, allowing them to appreciate what I view as The Story of Us.
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Summary
The author grapples with the emotional implications of time capsules created for her daughters, reflecting on the contents and the emotional weight they may carry. She considers various options for handling the capsules, weighing the importance of honesty with her children against the instinct to protect them from painful truths. Ultimately, she leans toward delaying their opening, allowing her daughters the chance to better understand the context of their family’s story.