Amy Spiker

Empty Notebook, Heavy Box

The box had been in the corner of her sparsely furnished living room for weeks. Until today it had rested unopened, a constant reminder of her loss. Today she had carved out time to look at its contents and accept the reality it symbolized. Her uncle was gone. The one she had relied on for laughter, encouragement, inspiration had departed. He was no longer answering her calls or sending her notes. He was no longer filling her life with laughter and gentle teasing. Where his voice had spoken into her life now there was only bone chilling deep silence. Perhaps opening the box would somehow conjure his lively spirit. That might be a mistake. It would be an ornery spirit, one that would likely turn lights on or carry out pranks to keep her on her toes.