My kids have heard me say it more than a few times. I said it about Candide. I said it about Native Son. I said it about Death be Not Proud. I said it about a few books that I've purchased in the last couple of years, even though I was sure they were in the basement somewhere.
Today I found them. In a large, tall Rubbermaid container. Under Bethany's drawings, costume jewelry, Valentine napkins, and packing paper. On top of miscellaneous legos, pieces of toys, and plastic Easter eggs. This bin had been packed by our movers on April 27, 2002 in our basement in Spring Grove. It had been in storage in a warehouse for several weeks. Then it arrived at our house in late May. It was opened, judged--based on the contents on top--to be something I could look through later and put aside. Somehow it got shoved behind the even larger box of dress-up clothes and the box of castle and pirate toys and under the desk that was left in the basement by the previous owners. Earlier basement cleanings assumed that since it was a Rubbermaid bin, the contents were supposed to be there.
Until today. Patrick and I are leaving no box unexamined in the quest for things we can sell, throw away, or otherwise dispose of. He opened the box and the first thing I saw was a drawing of Bethany's, followed by a Xerox of three-year-old Andrew's hand. We pulled the box out, swept off some webbies, and began the excavation.