Dad's Special Box

When I was a little girl my Dad started to give speeches as a hobby which then turned into a career. Motivational speeches. His main theme at the time was finding the magic within. For part of his presentation, Dad had a special box created. This box was 3-dimensional and had black and white designs on the outside. But on the inside, each side, top and bottom was made from mirrors. It was a completely mirrored box. At one point in his presentation he would explain that inside this box was all the magic needed to do or be anything. Then he would call upon a volunteer to come look inside the box. Of course, the magic box would reveal the true source of that magic and power: ones self. I loved my Dad's magic box. I thought it was truly amazing. I would beg over and over for Dad to do his spiel and let me find the magic within the box. Whenever friends came over, I would harass him to no end until he would show them the magic as well.

I had no idea, how valuable that box really was: the cost to create it, and the invaluable asset it was to his presentations. And so I was crushed when my Dad rejected my demands to bring the box to school for show and tell. How could he not let me share the magic too? I asked again and again, to no avail. And so I finally took matters into my own hands. I found where the box was stored. I checked on it every day and noticed that it spent days, between presentations, on that high shelf in the basement closet. Never moving. Never being checked on by anyone but me. I put little objects in front of the box so that I would know if it had been moved. It didn't move. So I snuck that box from its hiding spot and into my own clever spot: under my bed. Two, three, four days passed and nobody noticed it's absence. So after almost a week, I did what I'd been told not to do: I took the magic box to school for show and tell. What can I say: it was THE BEST SHOW AND TELL EVER!!!

I brought it back home undamaged and placed it back in its spot without saying a word. But sure that everyone at home knew my misdeed and I would be caught at any moment. I wasn't. Nobody knew until a few years ago when I let out my sneaky indiscretion.

It's memories like these, and the ones that include Mom's special charm bracelet and her amethyst ring (nothing bad happened to them Mom), that help me to look past or at least understand my own childrens' sneaky natures. And maybe re-think how often I say "no"... because at least if I say "yes" I can do so with limitations and guidelines. And, to be honest, I wish I'd stolen that box for good cause how awesome would that be to still have?