We are once again doing repairs and renovations on our old farmhouse.  This time, it is my bedroom and future laundry room, which was once the old bathroom.  My husband has a friend who restores old houses, so we visited his warehouse, which is filled with antiques, junk and things that his tenants have left behind.  The boys were crazed.  They love junk!  It was like Christmas day for them.

It was Joseph (7) who found the marble box.  It was out of his reach, and he asked Mr. Kent what it was.  He brought it down and said, "I don't know.  A renter left it when he moved out."  Joseph said, "It might have a million dollars in it."  And Kent said, "If it does, I'll split it with you."  He is a kid magnet, and he gleefully took the boys to his work table and began to pry off a bottom piece to see what was inside. 

As soon as he began opening the box, a thought flashed through my mind- "It's an urn."  I said it out loud and he said, "No, couldn't be an urn."  He looked inside and said, "Oh, it looks like concrete."  And the boys touched it and said, "It's just concrete, Mom."  I said, "Guys, that's not concrete. Those are someone's remains."  I will never forget the looks on their faces.  Their mouths were on the floor, as was Mr. Kent's.  He had poured the remains on the table, and inside the box was a metal tag with the person's date of birth and date of death.  It was surreal.  He put it all back inside and the boys were just in a state of shock.  We have talked and talked and talked about it but they can't get it out of their heads.  I have explained that it's just remains.  The person's soul is somewhere else (hopefully heaven), etc. 

After much thought, I did a search of public records and think I may have actually found the person's Social Security number.  I feel burdened to find the person, and tonight, as the boys were falling asleep, a thought occured to me- we were supposed to be there today and find it, if only to return the urn to the family.  So we are searching for a home.  And a happy ending.