Trixie stood in the basement of Crabapple Farm, the sunlight filtering through the small windows. She was pondering the neatly labeled and stacked boxes.

"Today is the day," she sighed to herself, "that I start going through these."

The year before, Trixie's mother had passed away. Trixie hadn't the heart to begin sorting through her possessions. Even at that moment, Trixie wasn't entirely sure she would be able to do the job.

Hesitantly, Trixie set to work. She opened the first box which appeared to be full of books

"Hmmmm. I don't remember Moms having much time to read."

She picked up the first book and small piece of paper came loose and fluttered to the basement floor. Trixie immediately recognized her mom's handwriting. It was a simple grocery list. But what caught Trixie's eye was the notation at the top of the list, Trixie's first driving trip to the store. Trixie barely remembered that day. But Moms clearly had.

Trixie turned her attention back to the box of books. She picked up the first one, opened it and gasped. It wasn't an ordinary book. It was a hand-written journal by Moms. Trixie fell back onto the basement steps. The joy and wonder at finding her mother's journals brought tears to her eyes. Reverently, she turned the pages. She found entries about Moms' garden, household activities, and thoughts Moms had as life swirled around her. All in all, they were just everyday, common occurrences. But reading them in Moms' hand made them all precious to Trixie. Carefully, Trixie looked at the rest of the books. They were all journals. Trixie sat on the basement steps for hours, reading and savoring the feeling of her mother's presence.

At the end of the afternoon, Trixie lovingly packed up the box of journals and loaded them into her car to take home. Later, she would share them with her husband and her family. But for now, they were her secret treasure.