The call came once a month with a gentle reminder to please come pick up the box. It was claimed and then sat on the closet shelf. Out of sight. I don’t remember when it was moved to the shed. It may have been moved for safe keeping, out of reach from toddler’s hands. Ten years had gone by before I knew what had to be done. The box descended slowly beneath the water lilies. I had thought ashes were supposed to fly away on the wind. I know he understands why I never was able to open the box.

Oh Laura. Um. That last visual is striking, of the box sinking amid the lily stems. And the last line is quietly powerful.

We're a lively bunch of Pandoras, aren't we?

(In my mom's defense, she always baked me a cake--from scratch. Presentation of any sort was not part of her purview.)

Thanks Beverly. I'm a shy one that usually looks at the challenge then puts something in my journal for my eyes only. I'm trying to climb out of my box a bit here in my safe place.

Mom almost always used the Sunday comics for wrapping paper. You brought back that fond memory. Now I think her husband does the wrapping because it has improved, slightly.

Laura, I love the image of the box and the lilies. Thanks for getting over the shy!

Wow, those were both great.

Bev, yours was really hard to read, in a really good way.

And yay Laura, for joining us! That drabble was just perfect.

A happy "open the box" drabble.

~~~

She doesn’t understand the object of the game at first. The box itself is enough for her, the crackle of shiny paper under her hands as she bats at it, curls her fingers in the bow.

“Bah,” she says when we prompt her, proud of herself, beaming, smile shiny with drool. She’s teething again.

We push the box toward her again, watch as she rolls it, smacks it, clearly delighted with its easy slide across the carpet. Her brothers laugh, and she frowns at them, displeased.

“Bah,” she says again.

So we show her, ripping the paper gently. “Open it.”

Oh, these are all wonderful! Way to get over the shy, Laura.

I'm still thinking about last week's, even though it is closed.

these drabbles are like little treasure boxes opening for me today

The magic box (a little long)

"She's your mother," I tell Hubby, "you distract her." He sighs and goes into the kitchen. I turn the computer box around and undo the screws.

"--can't open it!" my mother-in-law is saying. My long-suffering husband again tries to explain that computers aren't run by fairies and magic smoke.

I take off the side panel. As I suspected, the power supply for the hard drive wasn't seated correctly. I check the other cables, pull out a dust puppy, then close it back up. I reconnect everything, then push the power button. It beeps, then Windows gives its little chime.

MIL comes out of the kitchen and stares at the computer. "It works now?"

I take the coward's path. After all, it took three people and an hour to convince her that if you filled up hard drives, you didn't need to throw them away and get a new one. "Yes, it works."

Hee! Amy and Connie are both making me smile. I can see both scenes so clearly.