Grandma’s Photo Box

Leo had promised to help his grandmother clear out her attic before she moved to a new flat on Monday. The room was full of dusty boxes, and she kept stopping to look at things. “This is my old radio,” she said, and she placed it in Leo’s hands.

“That is Grandpa’s chair,” Grandma said, pointing to a worn armchair near the window. “Is that chair heavy?” Leo asked. “Very,” she admitted. “You will need help with it. But this lamp is small, and I would like to keep it.”

In the far corner, she noticed a blue box under an old blanket. “That is my photo box!” she exclaimed, as if she had found a lost friend. Leo crossed the room and lifted it. “This box is heavy too,” he said. “What is inside?”

He put it on the table and opened the lid. “This is a photo of you,” he said, holding one up. “You look very young!” Grandma smiled. “That is my sister, and that is my father. It was taken long before you were born.”

In the end they carried the chair, the lamp and the box down to the car, resting on every landing. “This radio is for the kitchen,” Grandma said, “and that chair will go in the new flat, next to the window.” Leo was tired, but he felt happy to be part of the move.