The Time Capsule of My Mother

And there is a lacquer box that makes you realize you are more like your mother than you thought.
And it's full of all the beautiful things that existed before you did: things from her wedding, a coupon for "ONE FREE KISS...OR MAYBE TWO, THREE OR FOUR (THIS COUPON CAN BE USED MORE THAN ONCE)",  pins from a forgotten Olympics, a fading National Honor Society pin,  pictures of people you never knew and a fortune that reads,"An airplane is in your future."


Inside of my mother's lacquer box, there is a story about love, coffee, letter writing, God, polar bears, a lost princess, babushka dolls, time, oceans, one particular statue, favorite tables, language barriers, sunflowers, the moon, the sun, forgetting, Bob Dylan, promises and wishes.


And there is a lacquer box upstairs with a drawing of a boy and his grandfather laying down in green grass on its cover. Inside of this lacquer box are things that tell you about a summer in Russia. Inside of my mother's lacquer box, there is one particular photograph of a girl and a boy.


The girl is wearing a grey skirt with orange flowers on it and a black blouse. There is a gold pin on her left lapel and a small, brown watch on her right wrist. She wears no makeup and her hair is short and boyish and red. 
The boy is wearing a brown and blue plaid shirt and brown corduroys. He is wearing sandals with socks and glasses. His hair is brown and his eyes have dark shadows. 
The boys arm is around my mother's shoulder. 
Their heads are touching at the temple. 
Her right leg is crossed at the knee over her left leg. His right knee is cradled; his right  foot touching his left knee. Somehow, both of their right knees are touching. 
He is smiling with pressed together lips and he has dimples.
She is smiling and her teeth are showing.
They are sitting on a bench in a park. There are yellow leaves underneath their feet. There is a canopy of pale green leaves above their heads.
The girl's name is Mary. 
The boy's name is Sasha.


Once upon a time, they met in a crowded street in Leningrad where Sasha asked my mother, "Do you know what time it is?" in perfect in English.
She said, "Yes. It's three fifteen."
Sasha said, "Are you an American?"
"Yes."
He looked at her with his dark eyes bright, "Do you want to see something cool?"
She shook her head yes. 
Once upon a time Sasha told my mother, "Take my hand." His hand was pale and bony with slim fingers and his command sounded more like a question and so my mother took it.