Out of the Box

Michael stepped into his front door after a long and tiring day at work and dropped his bag on the kitchen table.  Before he stepped away, his eye caught a glimpse of something he hadn’t seen in a very long time.

Michael, please, I can’t.

He hesitated and couldn’t seem to deliver the message to his hand to reach out to pick it up.

Dana, this isn’t something to debate about.  I’m sorry.

He just stared at it.  His eyes glazed over and his eyelids remained still.  He finally inhaled a gulp of air and sighed.  He extended his arm and picked up the fragile hair pin.  It was lighter than he remembered and the pearl beads on it glistened up at him, smiling.

Fine! You will be sorry! And take this! I never liked it anyway!

He recalled how it almost shattered that night.  She was so angry.  Goosebumps sprouted from his arms.  He could hear the ringing of her cry as she rushed out of the door with a slam.  If only he hadn’t cleaned out her side of the closet last night.

It must have dropped out of the box.

Fifty Yards

The first time was when I drove down the driveway.  My dad said let’s go, we’re gonna see what you got.  I got behind the wheel and my dad jumped into the passenger seat.  He handed me the keys, told me to step on the brake, and turned on the car for me.  Are you sure I can do this? I said.  Of course, Bec, it’s only down the driveway.  He instructed me to slowly take my foot off of the brake and just coast down the driveway.  My lungs filled with air.  My heart vigorously pumped blood through my veins.  Dad, I can’t do this, I’m going too fast.  Bec, don’t worry, you’re doing great.  Just keep your eyes ahead of you.  After 50 yards we reached the bottom of the driveway.  Okay, now step on the brake.  I slammed my foot on the pedal and our bodies lurched forward.  Well, I stopped, I said as I laughed.  Good thing you still have a couple more years until you really take the wheel.