The holiday treasure chest

The holiday season is the brief time of year when our house goes from spare to sparkly, with garlands and glitter galore. Come Jan. 1, it all comes down, with all signs of the season once again stowed away -- except one: the secret Christmas treasure chest. To anyone else, it just looks like an old-fashioned trunk, with no holiday magic attached. But my former 10-year-old self knows it can contain wonder.

One Christmas, after all the other presents had been opened, there was still an envelope under the tree with my name on it. It was in my brother's handwriting, the same brother whom I had interrupted in deep conversation with my mother a few days before about something I clearly wasn't supposed to be in on. The envelope contained a single sheet of paper with a clue, the first stage of a treasure hunt.

One by one, with my family following along, I unraveled a series of clues to lead me to the next sheet. One had to be held up backward to the mirror to be read. Another led me to Wash Day Cave (the basement) and the coldest, darkest place I could think of: the chest freezer, where the final frosty clue was attached to a large can of Schwan's ice cream. That clue led me back into the dark recesses of the oldest, seldom-used part of the basement with low ceilings and stone walls, where I found the chest.

Now, I had seen this chest once before. I had stumbled across it under some old harnesses in a shed, and excitedly brought my mother outside to look at it. She didn't share my enthusiasm for the dusty old relic, and couldn't satisfy my curiosity about its history. That had been months before, and the trunk had been transformed. After cleaning off all the grime, my mother lined it and gave it a coat of paint, painstakingly daubing on contrasting paint on the raised design late at night in the cold basement after I was safely in bed. My delight in the chest -- and the quest -- exceeded my excitement over any toy I no doubt received that year and no longer remember.

My mother disparages the trunk every time she sees it, being unhappy with her painting job (That old thing!). But I've kept the chest -- and the list of clues gathered in the envelope -- all these years. I look at it as decorative storage, and treasure it both for the pains my mother took to make it usable and the effort she and my brother took to make finding it into a whimsical adventure. I still don't know its origin, whether it came over with ancestors or was bought used later, but it came to me with a new story. My treasured chest reminds me of the joy of the season throughout the year.

What outposts of past holiday cheer have a year-round place in your house? And what childhood present was your favorite?