You will find it tucked away in some remote corner of her closet. Perhaps it will be an old shoe box, or a fancy chocolate box and no doubt it will be tied securely with a threadbare piece of ribbon. To her, this is a treasure trove for it contains all the wonderful things that remind her of her first born. There will be the picture taken of the wee one on the day he was born, and he will look like a prune, wrinkled and red, and very much like every other child that was ever born to a woman. There will be a card with his footprint on it; this, like the picture, taken for identification purposes, but now tucked away with other memorabilia, in a secret place. There will be a small white envelope into which she has put the curls that were cut off by the barber on that day when he had his first haircut. There will be a little cards that have been attached to small gifts given at the time of his birth by aunts and uncles and cousins and loving grandparents. Most of all, there will be the things that her small boy had made for her at Sunday school or kindergarten for special occasions like Christmas and Easter and Mother's Day, little cards made with course colored paper on which he had scrolled five letters which perhaps resembled Mommy. Then there will also be those letters he wrote her when he went away to camp, old and wrinkled now from many readings. These things a mother saves, for these are the byproducts of childhood, and to a mother, the most precious things on earth.
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