URNotAlone

The Box

December 23rd, 2008 5:42 am MST

So there I was one day, not particularly motivated in the daunting task that I was about to have to endure but knowing that it was not going to get done unless I did it, I headed down to my basement. There were tools strewn about that have long since been used for anything of purpose, some bins filled with old books, a few heavy duty bags with clothing that have been packed up for well intended purposes of donating to the goodwill but somehow never made it out the front door, and some boxes that were labeled as Christmas decorations. Off to one side I noticed a box that I don’t ever recall seeing before but not really all surprised since my basement was just a place that I stored things that no longer had any real significance and meaning or just random stuff that had no other place in my home.

I reached down and looked at the box closely, studying it’s worn and tattered corners that have long since held the shape of anything that resembled the true definition of normal. Written on the box in very faint letters, on a tag that had faded to a worn out dingy brownish-yellow were the words “a gift from a friend”. I stared at it blankly for an endless amount of time, wondering if maybe it was anthrax laden, oh my God, what if it’s some sort of pipe bomb? What sort of friend would give me such a crappy gift? I wondered and stared some more and went about with this weird sort of internal dialogue about what was inside and then in the same thought there was no way of really knowing what was inside until I opened it. “Hell, you don’t even know it’s for you.” I said out loud. For all I knew this could have been here for years, I mean it certainly looked that way. So no more of this back and forth banter with myself, onward and upward I say and tried tearing the packing tape that had grown flaky and seemed to be the only thing that even held this whole thing intact.

The tape held surprising firm and required a little persuasion from a nearby screwdriver that I found laying about. I used the tip of the screwdriver to tear this package on its taped seams for easy opening. As I lifted the flap I flinched, hoping it indeed was not a pipe bomb. As I opened it and no array of gunpowder and nails emanated from its confines I took a peek inside…
“Paper? What the hell kind of gift is this?” Who the hell would give someone scraps of paper for a gift I wondered. I ruffled through the papers to see if there was anything else but it seriously just appeared to be little scraps of paper with faded words and phrases written on them. I picked one up and read it to myself. I placed it next to the box on the floor where I sat cross-legged. I then read another and I chuckled loudly, half-startling myself from the noise I made in the silence. I then read another and another; some made me feel happy, others sad, and others left me in a state of confusion. All these little scraps of paper I figured out as I removed them were puzzle pieces. They weren’t just misshapen pieces of old paper; all these little pieces were part of something really big. Something truly significant I thought.

Some of these pieces were very tiny and others were really oversized in comparison to the former. Some of the pieces didn’t really seem to fit very well anymore, while other pieces after all this time fit perfectly into place. They all seemed to be stained, but as I started to place all the pieces both big and small together a picture started to reveal itself to me. Ok, now I am more than just a little intrigued and I knew I had to keep going even though there were times that I had to stop because my emotions were getting the better of me and I would read one of them and cry but mostly I would chuckle at the larger ones which somehow seemed to have fonder thoughts and memories on them. There sure were a lot of small ones that made me feel really sad but the larger ones seemed to make up for the little ones that I came upon it seemed more often than not.

Over time there were less and less pieces in the box and the picture was becoming clearer as time went on. I was transfixed by this puzzle and although it was certainly not very well crafted, it was almost as if it beckoned me to continue. The phone would ring and I would answer it only half-interested with what the person on the other end was trying to tell me. After all, this puzzle was calling me and I was going to heed this thing. I was determined to see what this thing was, somehow I had to find the time but the day was growing long and it would have to wait another day because it was almost time for me to pick up my son from school and my girl would be home soon, then we would discuss our day and sit down to eat dinner and watch some television like we always did together in the evening. After all I thought, this puzzle is huge and I would most certainly not be able to finish putting it together in just one day.

So the night turned into the next day and the daily routine began anew. I made my son some breakfast and his mother got him dressed and then before long she was out the door with a kiss goodbye and wishes of a good day. Soon came the time when I would have my son put his sneakers on and I would go into the closet and get his coat, which was hung up from the night before. I removed the little bulge from the sleeve that contained his hat, gloves, and scarf and I made sure he was all bundled up, then I grabbed my own coat from the back of the chair in the dining room. We exited the house and made our way up the street to the corner turning it and headed straight toward his school that is but two streets over. In the back of my head I knew what I was going to spend my time doing today. Once I returned home and took my coat off I headed for the basement. There was the box sitting on the floor, the pieces of paper, which were creating a puzzle before my eyes still in the same place I left them yesterday.

I worked all day it seemed, through all the mixed emotions that these little scraps were stirring up, I labored sometimes painstakingly and other times with shear joy at what I was creating. This puzzle seemed to go on forever, the more I did the more pieces it seemed to still have remaining. I knew this to not be the case because I was working very hard and spending a lot of time on it. Sooner or later I would near the end and I would rejoice when I did, no matter what the picture revealed. Just the sense of accomplishment knowing that I was able to complete it would most certainly sustain me.

The days became weeks and the puzzle at times was so emotionally intensive. The closer I got to the bottom of the box, it seemed as if I couldn’t contain the emotions any longer. The lows were fading and there were many more larger pieces now with quite a few more joyful times although when I would get the occasional smaller piece it would hit me super hard, as if my wind were being knocked out of me, my breath shortening and I was gasping hard like a diver coming up from a very deep dive and I could see the light at the surface and they say that deep water blackout could occur which is the most dangerous time, when the confusion almost takes over and the diver has a more difficult time judging the remaining depth of just how low they had originally sunk to. I was returning from the depths and I was frantically grasping at the imaginary hand that was reaching to pull me out of my emotional confines and set me ashore.

Finally the last couple pieces were all that I had remaining in the box and a sense of relief from the emotional torrent, which I had to endure. The worst I knew had to be over because the pieces were absolutely enormous ones. The second to last piece said “The Greatest Change Lies Within” and the last piece in the box said “I Believe In You”…
I then knew that this was truly the best gift that had ever been given to me because the image that developed from this puzzle was a picture of myself.

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