Sandi grabbed the box, ready to toss it into the dumpster when she spotted a note: Wait until spring. She laughed—it was the first day of spring. Her fingers picked at the yellowing tape, wondering how many springs it had waited.
“I’ll look at you later.”
Her grandmother had been gone over ten years, and everything was still just as she'd left it.
“What’s in these boxes?” Jaryd asked.
“No idea! I saved them for us.”
“Which one first?”
‘Ha. That one.” Sandi pointed to the yellowed paper.
“Hmm, wait until spring. Funny, it’s—”
“The first day of spring.” Sandi laughed “Open it.”
Jaryd pulled the flaps apart; the note clung to one side.
Sandi peeked in. “Oh, that smell.”
“Like earth.”
She shined a light inside. A box of dirt.
They stared.
“Grandma wasn’t this silly—”
“But grandpa was.”
“That was over thirty years ago.”
“Go on. Put your hand in there.”
Jaryd grimaced, reached in, then pulled out his hand. Three beans.
Their eyes met.
“Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”
“Jack and the Beanstalk,” they said together.
They planted the seeds in grandpa’s old garden and laughed.
“Wonder what's in the next one.”
To be continued…
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