The Box
written by: Jennifer Geer
It was suddenly ground hog day again.
I awoke from a deep sleep, sweating profusely; the dream was fading back into my memory bank. I tried to chase it like catching a wave rolling softly out to sea. I couldn’t remember the dream, only how it made me feel. I was having doubts and misgivings again. This had been going on for the last few years; the dream brought everything back home, back to the closet, back to the box. It was time to open it. My body shuddered with the mere thought of it. What would I find? Could I actually do it this time? Would it even matter anymore? Would you even see it?
In the beginning, at the start, before we knew the outcome, before the dance of life started, you presented it to me with the promise that you would always fill it with love, understanding, trust, faith and hope for an amazing life together; I vowed the same to you. We both laughed at the empty box but we knew it was the symbolism of how we would fill it. We were so naïve, young and happy then. We were both so committed.
At first it was a beautiful box, we wrapped it with Gold paper, the ribbon was bright red trimmed in gold. We toasted with champagne and together we placed it on our closet shelf. The memories began to pour daily into the once empty space.
Throughout the years, life took over, the daily trails, the egos, the intrusion of family problems and friends. The minutes turned into hours, then days; months passed then years. We grew older became older. Covid happened. The world kept spinning on its axis and so did we.
Now this box has been on the shelf for the last 20 years, neither of us wanting to pull the ribbon to unveil what was inside; Most of the time it was forgotten and ignored. It has sat on the shelf in our bedroom closet since the 1st day of our marriage. It was just an empty box but wrapped to perfection. There were many times I’d enter the closet, look at the box and smile with the knowledge and satisfaction it was filling up with soft glowing memories of the life we have shared together; other times I’d glance at it and shudder. There were times I saw you timidly taking a peak at it shaking your head in wonder; you thought I was not in the room, I was. I saw the confused look on your face as you closed the closet door. You didn’t see me or the tears rolling down my now wrinkled check.
Though the years the box became tattered and torn, the once magnificent gold ribbon was slipping and frayed around the edges. The box, as in life had ups and downs and was pushed around, knocked off the shelf sometimes but it always found its way back to its original place in our bedroom closet. We both worked hard to keep it in good condition, a lot of give and take accrued between us, but we were committed to honor and protect the beautiful box.
Throughout the marriage each of us added weight and substance to what was inside, the size of the box remained the same even though there were layers of uncontrolled emotions piled on top of love, at other times the box was left shaking and quaking off the shelf from the WTF, you’re an asshole, or the were you thinking. At times the silence was deafening! There were times we spilled these feelings into the box with such ferocious anger we thought it would burst. It didn’t. We didn’t. There were times when the love began suffocating at the bottom and the anger and misgivings began to rise to the top.
You began to change, I knew never who I would wake up too. You began to forget things like your keys, your phone then sometimes you forgot my name. You questioned everything I did and why I was doing it. Your demeanor began to be combative then in ten minutes you were smiling and loving again with not even a remembrance of what you just said. I panicked; I forgot the box, all I could think and do was handling you. One day I found the strength again, I lifted up the box and felt the weight, and it was full. I had a decision to make. I decided to choose you again; I whispered our vows of marriage over and over again.
Magically, patience, love and forgiveness began to breathe life back into the struggling, dying, wheezing lungs of our marriage. Our box began to mend. It was beautiful again. These were trying but loving times and everyday day became a new adventure with you.
I decided I wanted to open the box again. I wanted to feel all the emotions, and I wanted you to remember! I thought if I could turn it over and empty the contents out on the floor then I could send them out to the universe to judge, not you or me but how the world revolves around the sun and how people revolve around each other in the same way we called this box of life.
It was suddenly ground hog day again.
I awoke from a deep sleep, sweating profusely; the dream was fading back into my memory bank. I tried to chase it like catching a wave rolling softly back to sea. I couldn’t remember the dream, only how it made me feel. I was having doubts and misgivings again. This had been going on for the last few years; the dream brought everything back home, back to the closet, back to the box. It was time to open it. My body shuddered with the mere thought of it. What would I find? Could I actually do it this time? Would it even matter anymore? Would you even see it?
- They Called it a Near Miss - August 28, 2024
- The Box - May 14, 2024
- I’m Not Scratchin’ That Itch! - January 25, 2024
