The Knitting Journeyman

Gathering Up One Thread At A Time As I Weave This Web Of Mine.....

Tuesday, April 14, 2009

The Box

He gave me a box, that day, when first he told me he loved me. He did not let me open the box while he stood there. He bid me wait til after he had gone away, gone back to his home, to his other world, the one without me. I could do nothing more than obey, so deep was my love for him. How was I to know what I held in my own two hands?

I was not used to being trusted. Then again, I was not used to being genuinely loved or cared for or enjoyed. Here was a man who took my breath away, with every moment, with just a smile, and the leprechaun light a twinkle in his eye. This is the man who saved my life, more times than I care to remember. It was for him, although unbeknownst to me at the time, that I shifted my path and my direction. I chose him, much earlier than when the future had deemed appropriate, but much later than Spirit would have had us together.

I turned my back on a world that would have given me, after much work and determination, everything I had ever asked for from it. But then again, I had asked for so little in the grand scheme of things. In this man, I was given my heart’s truest desire: honest true love. How could I turn away from that?

So, there I was, with that small golden brown box clasped between my two hands, my breath too fast, my head a little achy. I worried my palms might be too sweaty to carry the thing. I stood in awe, looking at the intricate carvings over the top, along the sides. There was a patch of green velvety felt along the bottom, to protect it when I set it down. I fingered the edges tenderly. What could he have possibly given me?

I went inside, curled up in my chair against the wall so the sun’s light could tumble in, burnishing the chair and me, enshrining the contents now sitting on my knees. I knew where he was, on his journey home. I knew in my heart, so deeply connected we were. I sat patient, allowing him the time to arrive at his home, to greet his dogs, so start going along with his other business, the business that would never include me, but at its conclusion would never again bother me nor raise its weary head.

I took very slow very deep breaths, practicing my meditation in the space of the few minutes I needed to feel him calm down once he was inside his house. With intrepid fingertips, I caressed the glossy wood, stroking it as I often stroked his cheek, his arm, with utmost attention to truly feeling him with all my being, not just my skin. There was no lock. There was no calamity. I tilted the top back upon its hidden hinges. The heady scent of roses greeted me.

Inside there was a note, written in his hand. “Within this box you will find my heart. I leave it in your care as it has always belonged to you.”

I knew right then I would marry him. I have never looked back. I have never wavered. And I never will.

Prompt found here:
A Chocolate Box

Also posted at:
The Pythian Games