Clarissa Dsong

Gold in the Attic

My grandma told me about the gold in the attic when I was twelve years old. I had known, since I was little, that all sorts of strange things are hidden in the curious cabinets around her house. The spices and crackers and pumpkin seeds that would tumble over my head as soon as I’d reach for the shelves. The nearly folded and categorised linens and blankets and fabric scraps; tucked away with grandpa’s impressive stamps collection; the dusty glass display stands of shells and fans and Buddha heads—magazines, fictions, a magnificent bird embroidering on a miniature screen…a tuneless guitar I grew up thinking to be a cello.