A Satin Christening Gown Hidden Away in a Texas Cedar Chest
The brass lock in the cedar chest turned over with a loud, heavy click.
I threw my weight back against the brass latch and heaved up on the heavy oak lid until the iron hinges locked with a dry metallic pop.
A thick gray cloud of dust drifted up into my face, and I turned my head and coughed into the elbow of my cotton housedress.
Around the lock plate, the dark brown varnish on the front of the cedar chest had cracked like alligator hide.
My mother had kept that trunk locked at the foot of her bed for fifty-five years and never once let me touch the brass key.
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