As I open the door to the garage, the smell hit’s me.  It’s a combination of wood, paint, varnish, gasoline, oil, cut grass and exhaust.  It’s that unique smell of an American garage.

     I don’t immediately see what I am looking for so I go over to one side of the garage where there are stack of boxes and begin moving them.  After moving a few paper boxes filled with magazines, I spot what I’m looking for tucked away on the bottom shelf of a bookcase.

     I pick up the box.  It’s a small 10”x12”x5” cardboard box that one of us had brought home from work for some reason.  It’s not sealed and I open the flaps to examine the contents.

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