6 THE BOX

6

THE BOX

This is a house where two lives have been lived so well, with such love and in such a spirit of peace, that Vida is never overcome by loneliness here. Her lost uncle exists not merely in her mind but also seems alive in every room, in memories like vivid apparitions.

Even when, as now, she is away at the placer mine, the house feels occupied. If a burglar forced entry under the impression that the residence was deserted, he might halt a step past the threshold, become convinced that he was wrong, and retreat without risking an encounter.

This is not to say that the house is haunted, for it is not. To this point, only Ogden has died within these walls, peacefully in his sleep. As much as he loved this world, he lived in anticipation of another, and he was not of a mind to cling to this place either because of melancholy longing or fear.

Nevertheless, rich years of love, laughter, compassion, and kindness can imbue a home with a strange aura of life all its own, a resonant echo that speaks not to the ear but to the heart. There are special places and objects to which those who have a sensitive spirit might be drawn.

Sealed in bright-yellow giftwrap foil and never opened, the box has been stored on a high shelf in the bedroom closet since shortly before Vida turned twenty-eight, where it has been for many months. Now and then, she takes it down to wonder about its contents. She resists opening the package because a still, small voice tells her that wanting to know isn't good enough. She must wait till she feels an urgent need to know, for then the contents will mean more to her. Even when that voice is perplexing, she has learned to heed it.

The box, the closet, the house await her return.