In a treasure chest there is always gold and precious jewels. In my treasure chest I store dreams and imaginings. I open it each day and take something out. A bird’s feather from the beach. A an old tarnished coin or a lost wedding ring washed up on the shore of the Bay. A beautiful imageI have found. The new character I am imagining for my story. And, memories of my family from long ago. These memories include family members I have never met. Uncle Bill, dead on the Kokoda Track at thirty two. He was always with us around the dinner table each Sunday. If anyone ever set out an extra plate by mistake, we knew it was for Uncle Bill. I never knew Uncle Bill, he died before I was born. His wedding photo was on my mother’s sideboard all her life. His memory kept alive by the stories the family told about him. His young bride, Ethel, died before him of consumption, a pale image in my treasure chest. I grew up with lots of shadowy relatives from both sides of my family. A treasure chest is worth having as we journey through life.