Mia had gone out back to look at the patio and grounds so she could start coming up with ideas for construction. Her mother had gone into town, so this gave her the perfect opportunity to look around the house. She was curious about her roots, wanting to know more about her grandmother. But, her mother had seemed against all of it, preferring to know very little about where she came from.

She took the box from the hallway closet and went into her room, setting it on the bed. It was dusty and old, obviously having been in the closet for a very long time. She opened it and found a pile of papers, notebooks and other keepsakes that someone had packed up a long time ago.

First, there was a yearbook from Carter’s Hollow High School. Given the date, she realized it must’ve been her grandmother’s. She scanned each page for her name, hoping to see a glimpse of what she looked like when she was her age.

Sure enough, she found Charlene on page sixty-three. Evie ran her finger across the page, mesmerized by how much she really did look like her. Different decades called for different hairstyles, but otherwise they could be twins.

“Evie, did you want something to eat…” Mia said from the doorway. She stopped short and looked at the box. “Where did you get that?”

Evie squinted her eyes. “I’m so sorry, Aunt Mia. I shouldn’t have been snooping around. I found it in the top of the storage closet, way in the back.”

Mia slowly walked over and sat down on the bed. “It’s okay. I haven’t seen that box since I was a kid. Momma used to keep it away from me saying she had her personal things in there.” She ran her fingers along the edge of the tattered box, Charlene’s name written in big black marker across the side.

“Oh. Do you want to put it back up?”

Mia paused for a moment. “No. I think Momma would be okay with us looking through it now.”

Evie smiled. “Have you seen this yearbook? Look at how much we look alike!” She passed it to Mia.

“Wow,” she whispered. “Both such beautiful women.”

Evie dug back into the box, pulling out a yellow notepad with words written in red felt pen. “What’s this?”

Mia took the notepad and read some of the words. “These are Momma’s poems. She went through a phase where she wrote poems to help her deal with things. Sometimes, she’d give them to me when I was going through something hard.”

“What is that one called?”

“It’s called “The Me I’ll Never Be’,” Mia said, her eyebrows furrowing.

“What does that mean?”

Mia read the first part.

The me I’ll never be

Is the one taken from me

When you were pulled away

And all I wanted to say