A Little Glass Box

18 Nov

by Nancy Scott

          Some days you know you need an adventure.  You are bored.  You can’t settle.  You are too sad and only want to whine.

          After pacing or eating too much sugar or sitting too long in front of the tube, you leave your too-safe haven.  Fast food, the mall, maybe that movie.

          But some days, you are happily tucked in and industrious.  ‘Till someone else needs the adventure.  Oh, you need it too.  You just don’t know it yet.

* * *

          It was an almost-summer November day when my almost-lunchtime phone rang.  I had already drafted an essay, sort of cleaned the bathroom, and balanced the checkbook.

          “I just got my hair done, and I don’t want to go home and be diligent.  Can we do something?”

          I try never to refuse adventures when they’re offered.  “Let me think,” I hedged, mostly so I could seem diligent. 

          “I’m about five blocks from your house,” Vicky’s cell-phone voice informed me.  “Keep thinking, and I’ll see you.”

          Besides loving adventures, I don’t drive and must take advantage of vehicular opportunities.  We could make copies at the printer’s, and I did need more Christmas wrapping paper.  Aha!  The Dollar Store!

          With official errands finished, we roamed and handled and discussed the merits of Dollar Store merchandise.  I love containers.  Maybe it’s my dream of being organized, or a desire to  make what I give other people more interesting.  Presents should combine practical with magical, just like any other adventure.

          And since it was nearly Thanksgiving, I found lots of Christmas themes—snowman stockings, gold cloth bags with tassels, small felt boots just the right size to hide lottery tickets. 

          But the best box of the whole day was not designed for Christmas.  It was heavy glass with a substantial lid and a glass bow.  It spoke of January and presents beyond the predictable.  I have a friend whose birthday is in January.  I felt the rightness and the weight and size of this box.  It could hold money, a gift card, prayers, or anything else small that needed to be seen and kept.

          I bought it, happy that in these more uncertain times I could think about next year’s hope.  Who could ask for more of an adventure than that?


Nancy Scott, Easton, PA, is a blind essayist and poet.  Her over 600 bylines have appeared in magazines, literary journals, anthologies and newspapers, and as audio commentaries. An essayist and poet, she has published three chapbooks. She won First Prize in the 2009 International Onkyo Braille Essay Contest. Recent work appears in Breath and Shadow, Contemporary Haibun Online, and Stone Voices.


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