Hannah's Trunk

At first, the lost was devastating to Hannah.  She couldn’t believe that what had started out as a journey filled with hope and the promise of a bright and prosperous future could now, just a few short months later, look so bleak and daunting.  Everything she loved was lost and Hannah felt utterly and completely alone in a strange and formidable land she knew nothing about.  Maybe Sara had been right.  Maybe she had been too quick to make her decision.  Hannah’s mind raced through the events that had brought her here:

At 18, Hannah was anxious for a fresh start.  Raised by her two older brothers from the age of ten, she was ready to have some independence and freedom.  Jonathan had his wife and three children, and with Andrew and Sara expecting their first child any day, Hannah felt like little more than a servant going back and forth between them.  Besides, the city grew more crowded every day with new people bringing new languages, new customs, and worst of all, more crime and disease as they joined the other poor homeless immigrants living in the streets.  Hannah longed for some wide open space where she could breathe and be herself.

One morning Hannah tucked Sara’s list into her apron pocket and stopped to read a sign posted on a shop window.  “WANTED” it began in large bold letters.  “Teachers, Nannies, Cooks, and Maids.  Must be young, strong, and ready to travel by the end of April.  Contact Harold Feinstein at the Fifth Avenue Hotel, Room 237 for itinerary and all particulars.”

“I can do that,” Hannah thought as she went about her errands.  “There are no opportunities for me here, even with my teacher’s certificate.”  As the hours passed and her shopping basket grew heavier her excitement rose. 

“I’ve made up my mind,” she announced excitedly at dinner that evening.  Sara and Andrew looked up from their plates expectantly.  Hannah swallowed hard before continuing, losing some of her confidence.  “I’m going to go west.  They need teachers.  I saw a sign in town.  There’s nothing for me to do here, and I’d like to get away from the city.”

“Humph,” Andrew groaned, returning his attention to his plate.

“I can give you plenty to do,” Sara began indignantly.  “I’m going to have a baby any day now and all you think about is yourself and getting away from here.  What am I supposed to do?”  Sara crumpled her linen napkin and threw it on the floor.  “After all we’ve done for you; this is the thanks we get!”

“Now, now, Sara,” Andrew began, but he was quickly interrupted.

“Don’t ‘now, now’ me!  Sara shrieked.  “She’s your sister.  Tell her that her place is here helping me.  She’s not married and she has no prospects.  All she’ll ever be is an old spinster!  Tell her she has to work here to compensate for all you’ve done for her.  It’s only fair!”  Sara glared at Hannah across the table challengingly.

Hannah’s mind was made up and Sara’s outburst of insults only strengthened her resolve.  Looking down at her plate she straightened her silverware, folded her napkin, and quietly asked, “May I be excused?”

Andrew simply nodded apologetically.

In her room Hannah threw open the closet doors and pulled out a large trunk that had belonged to her parents.  She knew the contents by heart, but she sorted through them anyhow.  Her parents had received the silver utensils and candlesticks as wedding gifts.  The delicate lace-edged table linens had been made by her grandmothers, some dating back as many as three generations.  Hannah picked up her mother’s wedding dress, carefully folded, wrapped in a length of fine white cotton cloth, and tied with a blue cord.  “Someday I will wear this dress. Mama,” she whispered.  Hannah opened the last parcel: a stack of papers enclosed in several layers of oil cloth tied fast with twine.  Inside were letters filled with her father’s tall neat handwriting detailing his undying love for Julia, and Julia’s perfectly penned script confessed the same in return.  The family Bible held precious photos, family history, recipes, and other precious mementos.  Hannah held her parents’ photo close to her heart for a moment before rewrapping the bundle.

Now all of those memories were gone and Hannah felt the heat of her tears burning her cheeks.  Everything she owned except for the clothing she wore was in that trunk at the bottom of a cliff somewhere in the Utah territory and there was no way to retrieve it. 

With a heavy heart Hannah continued her journey and as days passed the loss grew less painful.  A teaching job awaited her in a small town north of Sacramento, California.  As the years went by, she married a fine upstanding businessman, had children of her own, and never regretted her choice to go west.  Yet there were times when she longed to hold the family Bible and see her parents’ beautiful penmanship expressing their love.  Hannah’s stories of the trunk full of lost memories outlived her as they were passed down from her daughters to her grandchildren and great grandchildren.

Hannah’s granddaughter Erin now lived in the home her grandparents had built.  “How odd,” she thought, looking at a letter addressed to ‘The Family of Miss Hannah McErin’.  Erin slipped the letter opener under the flap, slid out the correspondence and began to read:

“Dear family of Miss McErin,

I am a surveyor by trade.  While working in Utah I came upon a trunk buried at the base of a steep hill.  Among the contents were a poster advertising teaching positions in California, a family Bible, and other documents with the name Hannah McErin.  My research has led me here.  If you know of this trunk and its contents, please contact me so arrangements can be made for its return.”

Erin stood stunned for a moment before reality set in.  After all of these years Grandma Hannah’s trunk was found!

1000 words