The box (humor)

Everything was crackling, renewing after the bleakness of winter. Spring’s  promise can be quite invigorating, in unexpected ways.

We were old back then. Who knew we would still be here twenty years later. It’s a good thing that we broke the rules. Twenty years… such a long time.

When we became grandparents, about the same time that we retired, we were put in a box. I don’t know who put us there, but the box has rules. How to behave, what to do. Take pills for this and that. Get your eyes checked. Watch your diet. Separate beds. No chocolate. Slow down.

The box arrived in parts, so it took me a while to see it. The floor came first… a feeling, then it slowly materialised as a low mist, solidified, and then one day, I looked down, and there it was, underneath everything I did.

Next thing, I felt the sides. I guessed that one day my box would have a lid, with no escape.

On that spring day, my box had a floor, and the sides were closing in. I couldn’t see them yet, but they were there. My Richard said he felt it too. He is older than me, so that makes sense.

We were in the glasshouse, planting seeds. Richard said he felt young, with it being spring. He thought we should try something new; break open the box. He had a bulge in his pocket. I could guess what that meant.

I looked at him. Let’s face it, he’s no Adonis, but then, I’m not exactly Bo Derek either. He had a smudge on his chin. I reached out to wipe it away. He pulled me in close, and whispered ‘What about it girl?’

I was too old to pretend not to understand. We were so naughty, right there in the glasshouse, everything exposed to view. We weren’t expecting visitors, but the danger was there.

Since then, I’ve noticed Richard has a bulge nearly every day; we’ve thrown open the box on every occasion possible

In every room, in the garden, in the park, at the beach; anywhere, anytime. We’re not ashamed, but we’re discreet. I don’t think anyone has discovered our little secret.

The endorphins are quite a revelation, almost addictive. We have different approaches, so we take turns to choose.

Oh, silly me; I forgot to tell you what we did, that spring day, twenty years ago. We, gosh, can I say it out loud? We opened the box bulging in Richard’s pocket, and indulged ourselves, devouring all the chocolates inside.


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