I found many many trunks, but mostly all either water logged or falling apart. Then a rainbow appeared and in the midst of broken down pianos I found it. My trunk.
I excitedly bought the trunk from Mr. Cline for $10, brought it home, cleaned it, and media texted pictures to my parents and friends. For some reason I never thought about asking my grandmother if had kept or owned any trunks, but I excitedly called her to tell her the tale of my obsession. She revealed that both of the trucks my great grandmother and great grandfather had used to bring all of their belongings to the U.S. from Italy are hidden in the attic. She insisted that I check them out and told me multiple interesting facts and stories based around the trunks. Without even seeing a picture, these two trunks immediately mean more to me than any other I could ever find. Why? The story. I am sure that every trunk has a story, but I know in depth stories of these two particular items and cannot wait to see what’s inside.