The Mystery Box…

 

 

Before the holidays last year, my

Grandmother passed away; I went

to her house to help pack that

day. In the attic, I found a box, a

mystery with a lock.  It had a label,

“To be opened, never more”; I picked

it up gently laying it on the floor.

 

Should I, or should I not, I mumbled

turning about, the suspense was more

than I could take, I wanted to scream

and shout.  The message I understood,

I was at granny’s house, do not touch

she would say about her many things

and I was always good and quiet like a

little church mouse.

 

I would not try to pick the lock or break

into this mystery box, with its label and

its lock.  I thought of that good child and

wanted to be the same, I wanted to open

it no one would know; I picked up a

hammer and broke open the lid.  It seems

that only granny’s eyes had seen the box and

now she was dead!

 

Inside were letters neatly tied with pink ribbon,

I held them in my hand and I wonder if this

treason of mine would be forgiven.  They were

addressed to my granny, the return was a

“strange” name, and I wondered if this man and

my papa could have been the “same”.

 

I open the first one, my granny was telling this

stranger that he had a son, and oh… of that fact

did she dread.  It was not until I opened the last

one from my papa who was telling her, their

good friend would not come back from the war;

he was dead.

 

I cried, I took the box and letters tossing them

away, telling my granny in Heaven the secret with

me would stay.  My papa caught me by the

fireplace; he patted my hand saying “Let them burn,

wipe the tears from your face.  It all happened,

before she married me and he knew that Joe was not

my son”.   You see, my papa was a gentleman;

and I am certain that his personal war before Uncle

Joe’s birth had already been won.

 

 

 

2013.annjohnsonmurphree

 

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