Crayola’s yellow box made his eyes go wide.
Realizing all one hundred twenty colors inside were his to work with.
And that thought had him wondering what he should color first.
Yukon forests? Dragons breathing fire on a horde of gold? Something from the Matrix?
Of course, he could let his imagination run wild and do something totally out of the box.
Next moment he was using a heat gun to make a three-dimensional sunset!
All the queen’s men stood tall; heads bowed low
Giving respect for the pine box being carried between them
Every eye was dry, but their hearts wept with each beat
Nothing was more important than being there to respect their fallen comrade
Then they would go out into the world and exact revenge
Couldn’t stand being put in one when she was young
Objecting to the degrading idea of facing the epitome of a box
Realizing she never wanted to be inside that construct ever again
Now she does her own thing while society fiddles and burns
Energized knowing she is living her best life
Regretting that the rest of humanity decided not to follow her and stayed in the …
Focusing on what caused him to tremble
Embracing the terror he held in his hand
Allowed him to rise above that base emotion and use it to his advantage
Reaching for the top of the box he opened it and asked, “Will you marry me?”
Pushing society’s boundaries
Until it finds the breaking point
Never accepting being inside any box
Keeping the norm from becoming comfortable and helping it grow if it wants to or not.
So many wanted her to stay inside the box of their construction
Happy and content with the societal norms
All she wanted to do was be free, to be herself
Maybe if they all accepted that she would have bloomed
Except they belittled her for being different till she hid away her truth until it was gone
Stay put and don’t move.
That was what the sign meant.
Of course I challenged that box society tried to put me in.
Policeman didn’t agree with my public protest and gave me a ticket for my failure to…
So he was happy with being a circle
He liked that better than being a square
And he loved all the food pyramid equally
Perhaps he should have used the heart attack as a stop sign, but…
Eventually it caught up to him, and he was placed in a rectangle box
Darryl handed Patricia a rectangularish box wrapped in the reddest foil that she had ever seen. “Go ahead and open it. This one’s from me.” He was practically vibrating from excitement.
This was the first Christmas they had been together, so the idea of going to his parent’s house for the holiday seemed a bit much. She preferred to keep things at arm’s length for longer, sort of to feel things out before getting too attached. Still, he seemed so sweet on the idea that she decided to give in.
Patricia took the offering and tried to muster up a smile. This container hurt her engineering soul. She had gone to college for years studying the best way to package products. She had won numerous awards for her ability to design the stuff that everything is put into. She made it to be not only functional, but beautiful. It was something she took immense pride in.
And yet the gift her boyfriend had given her was in a sorry state. The top and one of the sides were bulging, ruining the angular pleasing aesthetic most boxes had. He had undersized the box by at least two, two and a half centimeters on the long side. Not only that, but she could feel that the cardboard selected was too thin for the amount of weight the poor reinforced paper had been asked to hold. It practically buckled as she placed it on her lap.
Yeah, this wasn’t going well. He probably had gone overboard, picking out something expensive to impress her. People put too much emphasis on what was inside the box. She knew what mattered was the thought that went into the product as a whole. That’s why packaging was her passion.
Well, there was only one way to get this over with.
Patricia deftly pealed back the cellophane tape. She folded it upon itself and placed it on the side table next to her. She could tell that Darryl wanted her to hurry up, but she wanted to honor the materials others carelessly discarded. That is why she preferred to use bags to hold gifts. They had a life, post present, with the probability of many regiftings in their future.
If they had a future together she would have to train him better.
She unfolded the wrapping paper cocoon and laid it on top of the tape. There was crafting supplies in its future if she could pawn it off on Darryl’s niece as long as Darryl’s sister didn’t notice till that crew was in the car on the ride home. She would think of a way to entice the ten-year-old that origami roses were just a few folds away.
She contemplated the box. Yes, that poor box was at death’s door. There would be no upcycling this, at least without major reconstructive surgery. Alas, you couldn’t save them all.
She looked into Darryl’s eager eyes as she opened the box. He nodded, almost exploding with emotion. She looked at what had been entombed just moments ago. Inside there was a vast swath of Kelly green. He at least had picked her favorite color. She lifted the object out and shook loose sleaves. She stared at a sweater unlike anything she had seen before. There were occasional oblong holes, a few loops of yarn that didn’t attach to anything, and the left sleave was about a half inch longer than the right. It was not what she had been expecting for sure.
She looked back at Darryl.
“I knitted it myself. You said you always were getting cold at the apartment. I thought it might be cool if I designed a package for you.” He put air quotes around the word package. “I love listening to you talk about that stuff, so you inspired me to do this. You should have seen the three previous attempts.”
She took a closer look at the sweater and noticed how the stiches did get better the farther along they went. He was really starting to get the hang of it by the end. How much time did he put into this? How many nights had he worked on this while they were on the phone? He had sounded slightly distracted, but she put it up to him being annoyingly male. Now she thought she knew why. She stared at what was inside the package with a new appreciation for what was inside.
“Look, I know it’s not that good, but I ran out of time and…”
She collapsed the sweater to her chest as she interrupted him. “It’s perfect.” And in that moment, she knew he was a keeper.
The hammer felt so good in his calloused hand
Only that didn’t seem enough for this task
Opening up the metal box he reached in and pulled out a larger hammer
Looking at his source of frustration he grinned and went to work “fixing it”
Abdi Mohammed
The Art of Prose and Poetry
self-publishing
Sarah Torribio and her right brain. Music. Musings. Writing. Style.
We Survived and Arrived - Now as Warriors We Thrive
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Random Stuff I Think You'll Like
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The Official Home of Rolli - Author, Cartoonist and Songwriter
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Never Short On Words 