She cried. It came naturally. At an early age she became sure that she might run out of tears and so she got a small box–a cast-off from her mother’s cosmetics drawer. Her small hands grasped the porcelain casing and tucked it away into her pocket. Alone in her room she’d sit on the bed, or sometimes on the floor in the corner, and hold the smooth, cool porcelain to her cheek as her tears flowed.
Six years later she put the box away in the drawer by her bed. She needed it no longer–her happiness secure. And through the years of marriage, raising children, and the death of her husband of fifty-two good years, she was happy. But happiness is such a fleeting thing. Here one day–missing the next.
***
The old woman smiled as the girl entered the cold, sterile hospital room. “Grandma,” the girl said. “I’m so afraid that you’re going to die.”
“There-there,” cooed the old woman. “Shh,” she comforted, as the girl cried on her shoulder. “Now, dear, I have a present for you.”
The girl watched in anticipation as the old woman pulled a small paper bag from the bedside drawer and handed it to her.
“That’s for you, dear girl. It’s a gift–a place to store all your most secret fears and dreams–and a place to store your tears, too.”
The girl eagerly opened the bag and within was a small porcelain box. She opened it and saw it was empty.
“What’s wrong, child?”
“It’s empty.”
“Oh, no, dear girl. Nothing could be further from the truth. That little box is chock full of dreams and hopes and fears. All you need do is pour yours in–and they’ll be safely stored there for you always and forever. It has always been so reassuring to me. Many years ago, when your grandfather and I met, all my hopes and dreams came true. And through the years I never had a fear with him by my side. Now that I am again alone–his strength remains with me. I’ve always kept this small treasure near and dear. But now I see a kindred spirit in you, dear child, and can see the same worry and fear I once held. So I’m presenting you with this gift. Put your worry and fear inside. And remember–never allow your dreams to fly away. Keep them close and secure.”
The girl put the small gift away in her purse. Hours later she received a call from the hospital. Her grandmother had peacefully passed into the next life while asleep.
She cried. It came naturally. She remembered what her grandmother had said about the porcelain box. Later that night she sat on her bed; the open box pressed to her cheek felt smooth and cool as her tears flowed.
DJ Barber waits for the muse and sometimes even writes a word or two.
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13 Responses to “TEARS IN A BOX • by DJ Barber”
Comments
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January 19th, 2008 at 7:43 am
Nice circle. I liked how you told it.
January 19th, 2008 at 8:11 am
Thank-you, Avis.
–dj
January 19th, 2008 at 8:29 am
Cute. Kept my interest.
January 19th, 2008 at 12:11 pm
Lovely.
January 19th, 2008 at 2:37 pm
Touching.
Thanks for the story.
January 19th, 2008 at 2:41 pm
what Steve said. really; he stole my words.
January 19th, 2008 at 2:52 pm
Thanks to all for your kind words.
January 19th, 2008 at 3:58 pm
Touching story. Thank you for sharing it.
January 20th, 2008 at 7:32 am
It was hard to believe she had so much happiness through her marriage. So that didn’t convince me or touch me. I didn’t get how saving her tears and fears in the box helped her really. Could you please enlighten my dull brain? Thanks, DJ. I like the title, it made me pick this story to read out of the lot waiting, and I like the concept, but the *reason* is elusive to me.
January 21st, 2008 at 9:03 pm
Just that after an unsure start, she found happiness. And knowing her granddaughter’s likeness in spirit to her, passed on what had helped her.
January 22nd, 2008 at 3:25 am
Thanks, DJ. I’d say that if you brought this out more–this exact thing you’ve explained, it would improve this story and make it even better. Just a few tweaks. Good luck, and all the best!
January 22nd, 2008 at 4:06 am
I found it moving.
January 24th, 2008 at 10:04 am
Thank-you, Oonah.