On Mystery Box Revealed

On Mystery Box Revealed

His wife didn’t think he was a hoarder. He was not a hoarder. Besides, she was there too, helping. The boxes kept piling on their front porch. Every day, week after week, ten to fifteen new deliveries came by drone or by truck. Often they came in the morning, mostly in the morning, but also throughout the day.

He was tasked with bringing the boxes into their house – and unpacking them – and setting the contents in some suitable place, on shelves, in drawers, in closets or cabinets in the house, or outside in the yard, or under the pole barn. Some went to the 15’x20’ “warehouse” that was an outbuilding on the property when they moved there years ago. His wife would go back through and rearrange things into an aesthetically pleasing whole, and cull what didn’t belong. It was a little more like a museum with a gift shop than hoarding.

They had received three months worth of boxes so far in this most recent wave. That’s over 90 days multiplied by ten to twelve packages per day. That’s over 1,000 packages plus what they already had. Some of the boxes contained multiple items. There were thousands of things he had unpacked and she had arranged. Occasionally they received a box of prepaid mailing labels. This allowed them to forward anything anywhere, almost, for no cost. They saved and reused boxes and packages and resent things to all over the world.

Some items were perplexing, others useful. Some seemed valuable, some not so valuable. Some were just plain trash that she threw away with the rest of the trash.

Here are some examples:

One afternoon in the rain, he received a box full of laundry. The clothes fit him, there were socks, two shirts and some pants and a belt. A button was missing from the shirt, but he found it in the bottom of the box. There was a small hole worn in one of the pants legs. His wife patched it with some needlepoint work she enjoyed as a hobby.

Another package of the same day had a set of three mojica porcelain figures. These were bright and shiny: a fancy frog, a friendly dragon, and a lucky turtle. None were chipped. She placed them on one of the special sets of shelves now crowding multiple rooms of their house.

Some items they could sell. Other items they gave away to various people at birthdays, weddings, casual gifts, or Christmas maybe, and at street corners around town.

Yes, there were plenty of appliances and kitchen gadgets. That might be why kitsch is called kitch. They had a vintage toaster and a very decent can opener along with numerous other decent can openers and toasters. There were coffee pots and teapots, also toys, books, dolls and wallpaper. Several dozen boxes contained locks and keys of all kinds and shapes, or they just had a bunch of keys in them like a locksmith unloading from a recent key change somewhere.

Certainly one could go on and on in descriptions of the thousands of things – oh, some art, too. Maybe there were 30 or 40 oil paintings and watercolors. His wife placed many of these on walls inside, and he left some leaning against a dresser, or against other objects outside under the pole barn.

It could go on and on. But this is only to show how important a very special box came to be.

The drone delivered that box late one Friday. There were other boxes delivered earlier, and he had opened them and put the things away, actually, threw a few items away – an old sauce pan and a faux crystal vase. There was also an interesting looking ring that might be real. He didn’t know.

“It’s certainly not imaginary,” he thought. “At least not all of it.”

There was a globe showing countries of Earth and some model airplanes, some made of metal others made of wood.

But the mysterious box that arrived late Friday was the only one for that drone. It was addressed correctly, of course, except specifically to his name. It also said, “Do not open until Christmas” on the outside. There was also a hand-drawn map of his yard with an X marked on a spot that corresponded to nothing in particular in his yard at that time. It was signed “Santa.” There was no legible return address.

“That’s like signing ‘anonymous,’” he said.

“Santa isn’t anonymous,” she said.

“Santa can be anyone,” he replied.

“Santa is always someone,” she said. “Let’s open it.”

“Let’s wait till Christmas like it says.”

“Good choice,” she said, “it’s not like we don’t have enough things to open around here.”

Curiouser and curiouser.

Fortunately, it was December 9, so Christmas was only 16 days away. Each day they continued to decide to do what the box said to do and wait. In the meantime, in the next 15 days, they received over 150 more boxes. Two were just empty. Six boxes added together made a complete set of dinner dishes with colorful floral patterns on them. 150 boxes would take a lot more words to describe. It wouldn’t help; it would read like an endless webpage, or catalog in the mail.

The box was the box of most interest, the one marked not to open until Christmas along with the little hand drawn map on the outside. That’s all they had to go on; and they kept going over it in their minds. They waited and waited. They waited and waited even while opening other boxes, which didn’t seem like waiting at all. But it was. It was like Christmas was a year away and would never come.

Each day seemed endless. It didn’t matter; all he could think about was the box: that box. Only occasionally did he think of other things, like getting dressed, opening the other boxes, and drinking coffee or eating crackers with cheese and pickles.

But of course, Christmas finally came. Because they celebrated Christmas with friends and family (some of them celebrated just to be friends), there were numerous others at their house. They all had presents to give and receive. Everyone took turns, or not, opening presents. But he kept the special box unopened, even when some others remarked about it and wanted him to open it to see what it was. Everyone was curious.

Finally, in the middle of Christmas day, he decided to open the box. All of the guests had stayed to enjoy each other’s company and of course see what was in the box. They shared some drinks and snacks. They had sparkling wine, eggnog, sparkling waters, red wine, crackers, smoked salmon, cream cheese and capers and lots, lots more. Much of what they ate had previously arrived by drone as boxes on his front porch. One exception to that was two trays of baked cookies his wife made.

But now it was time to open the mysterious box. He placed it in his lap, took off the wrapping and cut open the taped top. Inside, nestled in some bright teal tissue paper was a key to a lock. There was a note tied to it: “Look at your map,” it said. Everyone moaned a little because there were so many boxes around with keys and maps in them that a box with a key and a map wasn’t much of a mystery anymore. It was already over the top. But this one was different somehow and piqued interest.

He looked at the key and the map and passed them both around so everyone could see and touch. Two weeks ago there was no X on the property, but now maybe it’s different.

“Let’s go look for the X! “ they spontaneously shouted, but not in unison.

Almost everyone went outside, and they tried to spot somewhere in the yard something corresponding to the X on the map. Nothing was there before, but now, as if by magic, there was a wooden box about the size of a shoebox.

It had a lock on the front. Everyone was excited. The key fit!

He opened lock. Then he opened the box. There was something there, covered in bright gold and purple tissue paper. He unwrapped the tissue, and there was the most perfect and beautiful set of screwdrivers he had ever seen or known. One was Phillips, the other was flathead.

They had great balance, sharp edges; the shank was square at the handle to accept a box wrench. The end was magnetic and round to match a hole for a screw. The shank went all the way through the handle and ended with a quarter inch drive to accept a ratchet. They had nicely shaped and colored handles, not too big, not too small, perfect for toolbox, or even his pocket for not too long. He passed them around so others could appreciate the balance, the haptic, visual, and practical aesthetic. They were prefect together. It was what he had always wanted but never knew until now.

He looked around the little crowd surrounding the event. Where was his wife? Certainly she would be excited by such a perfect gift from out of the blue. She was standing back on the front porch, among a stack of boxes, sipping a cup of tea, eating a cookie, and watching. Their eyes locked for a moment. He realized that she already knew what was in the box. She was the only one in the world that could possibly know because she was the one who had sent the box! Yes, they were perfect together, and he always knew it.