The true origin of The Box is not as exciting. My ex, Donnie, was very good at gift giving, and I had chosen to destroy a good number of my treasures because of a lack of a place to store them. The Box came from him, for my birthday, about 15 years ago. In it are letters from friends and long ago relationships, memories of nights out, concerts, gifts given to me by friends I no longer speak to, amorous letters I don't want found and read. The log from my grandpa's feeding schedule when he was in hospice. School memorabilia from college. You get the gist. I've been able to add to it throughout the years, and enjoy going through its contents once a year or so.
My main enjoyment of The Box comes from my older sister. She hates secrets. More than anybody I know, she has to know everything. To give you an example, I had to duct tape her Christmas gifts shut when we lived together to keep her from opening them early. We were in our mid 20's, so I can't even attest it to her being a child. The Box drives her crazy for numerous reasons, but mostly because I keep it at the forefront of her mind. I get her into deep conversations, like "What one thing would you save from your home if it was burning?" My answer is always The Box. She gets so angry, because not only does she not know what's in it, but she claims I cheat because there are many things in The Box, therefore rendering my answer outside of the parameters. I just smile knowingly and tell her that she doesn't know how many things The Box contains. For all she knows, it could be empty.
Someday, when I have had my fill of the secrets it contains, I'm going to empty it and give her a treasure map to it. I want to be there when, after all those years of curiosity, she opens it. Who knows, though? Maybe I'll find a way of leaving her Hope inside it.
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