Free Essays on Love Untold

December is one of my favorite months. It’s the time of year when I get to be really close with my family. My wife, daughter, and I head to my mother’s house for Christmas Eve. As we enter the house and greet my mother, Kelly begins pulling on my pant leg, â€Å"Daddy I want something to play with.† I walk Kelly over to my mother’s work desk. I pull out a drawer filled with all sorts of goodies for her to sift through while I unpack the car. As I walked back in the door I could tell that Kelly was not at all impressed with her grandmother’s junk drawer. I can vividly remember spending hours sifting through the rubble and finding worn elastic bands, screws of all shapes and sizes, dented golf balls, and delicate tools used for watch repair. There were new discoveries to be made each visit. I would sit on my mother's kitchen floor, with the drawer between my legs, and examine every piece like it was a long lost treasure. I was an archeologist of discarded useless junk. I would often sort my work into separate piles; one for outdoor and indoor use, then geometric shapes and colors. It never bored me or failed to fill a rainy Sunday afternoon. Kelly quietly pushed the mess from left to right and in small circles, her hand barely touching the tangled heap of metal and plastic. Her red hair was tightly drawn into a bun, leaving her face and its expression exposed. She couldn't hide her lack of interest. She would look up at me on occasion and smile weakly, as I nodded and grinned my approval and encouragement. After a few tortuous minutes, I finally asked her, " Did you find anything you liked or wanted to keep, Sweetie?" "Just this, Daddy, what is it?" Her tiny hand opened slowly. In it lay one of my brother's World War II medals. I remember Mom calling it "one of Jeremy’s souvenirs from overseas." I was shocked and furious that my mother would discard it in the junk drawer. I ran my fingers around its rusted edges a... Free Essays on Love Untold Free Essays on Love Untold December is one of my favorite months. It’s the time of year when I get to be really close with my family. My wife, daughter, and I head to my mother’s house for Christmas Eve. As we enter the house and greet my mother, Kelly begins pulling on my pant leg, â€Å"Daddy I want something to play with.† I walk Kelly over to my mother’s work desk. I pull out a drawer filled with all sorts of goodies for her to sift through while I unpack the car. As I walked back in the door I could tell that Kelly was not at all impressed with her grandmother’s junk drawer. I can vividly remember spending hours sifting through the rubble and finding worn elastic bands, screws of all shapes and sizes, dented golf balls, and delicate tools used for watch repair. There were new discoveries to be made each visit. I would sit on my mother's kitchen floor, with the drawer between my legs, and examine every piece like it was a long lost treasure. I was an archeologist of discarded useless junk. I would often sort my work into separate piles; one for outdoor and indoor use, then geometric shapes and colors. It never bored me or failed to fill a rainy Sunday afternoon. Kelly quietly pushed the mess from left to right and in small circles, her hand barely touching the tangled heap of metal and plastic. Her red hair was tightly drawn into a bun, leaving her face and its expression exposed. She couldn't hide her lack of interest. She would look up at me on occasion and smile weakly, as I nodded and grinned my approval and encouragement. After a few tortuous minutes, I finally asked her, " Did you find anything you liked or wanted to keep, Sweetie?" "Just this, Daddy, what is it?" Her tiny hand opened slowly. In it lay one of my brother's World War II medals. I remember Mom calling it "one of Jeremy’s souvenirs from overseas." I was shocked and furious that my mother would discard it in the junk drawer. I ran my fingers around its rusted edges a...