Monday: The Discovery of a Legacy
The air in the cabin was thick with dust and the scent of old wood as Ivy Mae worked her way through boxes, piles of forgotten treasures, and half-buried memories. She moved with purpose, organizing the things that had long been neglected, clearing the clutter that had settled in the corners of their makeshift home. There was a weight to the task—one that was as much emotional as physical.
Jas sat nearby, idly watching her work, fingers tracing the edge of a weathered old photograph they had found, feeling the silence in the room pressing in. It was the kind of day that felt endless and grey, where everything seemed stuck in time. A part of them wanted to feel something, but the weight of their thoughts kept them distant, detached from it all.
Suddenly, Ivy Mae stopped what she was doing, her hand resting on a small leather-bound book that had been tucked away in an old box. She held it up with a quiet gasp, her eyes wide. “Look what I found,” she said, her voice suddenly lighter, filled with something between awe and nostalgia.
Jas set the photo aside and leaned in as Ivy Mae carefully opened the fragile pages, their edges yellowed with age. The book was a family heirloom—her great-grandfather’s diary.
“This…” Ivy Mae began, her voice reverberating with a mix of pride and reverence, “This is my great-grandfather’s diary. He wrote this when he was just 14.”
Jas glanced at her, their curiosity piqued. “He wrote all this at 14?”
Ivy Mae nodded. “It was all in script, so a lot of people had trouble reading it. I spent years transcribing it into print—was going to digitize it and turn it into a book for the family. But… life got in the way, you know?”
Jas nodded quietly, understanding the feeling all too well.
She handed over three little books, their pages fragile but rich with history. They were small enough to fit in Jas’s hands, but the weight of them felt heavy in a way that wasn’t about their size—it was about what they represented.
Ivy Mae sat beside Jas, pointing to the pages as they opened one, scanning over the handwritten words. “This is from when he was living in what’s now Nanoose Bay near Victoria, BC. It was back in the late 1800s. His mom passed away two years before, and he was documenting his life in the wilderness, growing up on the frontier. It’s incredible how he captured everything—hunting, survival, everyday life. His observations are raw, and you can feel the challenges he faced.”
Jas looked at her, then back at the pages. “What’s this about pulling turnips?”
Ivy Mae laughed softly, a bittersweet sound. “Yeah, that part always made me chuckle. He wrote a whole section about it like it was some great event. It’s funny, but there’s so much more. Like how he shot a cougar to protect his family. Or how he hunted with someone called Indian John. My great-grandfather’s mom was Songhees, and his dad was from the Azores. He was a blend of two worlds, just like me.”
Jas ran their fingers across the delicate pages, feeling the history woven into the ink. “That’s amazing. I can’t believe he was only 14. He wrote all this down like it was his duty.”
Ivy Mae nodded again, eyes distant as she spoke. “He did. I think he knew the importance of documenting the life they were living, even if it was just for himself at the time. He was growing up in a world that was changing fast. He saw a lot of things we can’t even imagine, things that got lost over time.”
There was a pause, and then Ivy Mae turned to Jas with a look of quiet determination. “I was thinking… maybe we can read through it together, finish what I started with digitizing it. Turn it into a pop-up book for the family tree. It would be something we could pass down.”
Jas smiled, the weight of the world outside the cabin feeling just a little bit lighter. “That sounds like a really good idea.”
Ivy Mae’s voice softened as she looked at the books again. “I think this story deserves to be told, Jas. Not just for us, but for the generations that come after.”
They both sat in silence, the weight of the past mingling with the possibilities of the future. The past wasn’t just something to remember—it was something to carry forward, to honor, and to share.
Jas looked up at Ivy Mae, and for the first time in a while, they felt a glimmer of hope, a spark of purpose. It was small, but it was there.
It wasn’t much, but it was enough for now.