When I was little my dad brought home this little music box one day. It wasn't anything special... my mom can't even remember where he got it. He hung it on the kitchen door. Every time I'd pass by the door I would pull the string. My mom said I'd do it 6 or more times a day.
Once my dad saw how much I liked it he moved it to my bedroom door. Whenever I had trouble sleeping he would play it for me... my dad didn't sing so this was kinda his voice. :)
After he died when we moved away my mom packed it up with a bunch of his things. And there it stayed for 30 years. Until the other day when my mom found it. She left it out to see if I would see it and see what my reaction would be. I didn't disappoint. I saw it hanging on her coat rack and .... I can't describe the feeling. It and it was like seeing a ghost. I simply said "I know this." Yet I could not think of a single memory of it. I vaguely remember seeing in a door but otherwise I have no actual memory of it. It was a feeling... a deeply ancient memory. And playing it's music was even more creepy (in a good way) like hearing my dad's voice.
I teared up a lot and spent a long time just staring at it. My mom was worried it had upset me. It didn't it was just the most bazaar feeling I've ever had. It meant a lot having this back and in a way I'm glad it had been packed away so long. It is as if it's memories had been kept in a time warp. If I had kept it out then I would have built new memories about it as I grew up. Having it be away and then find it again was like going back in time. It was wonderful.
