The LOVE Box

Yesterday, in the mailbox at the old house, I discovered a hand painted box addressed to me with a label that read "Handle With Care. FRAGILE. Contains LOVE." I have not been back at the house in a couple of weeks, so I am not sure how long the LOVE box has been there.

I had no idea what was in the box, so I was hesitant to open it up. I also like surprises and try to savor them as much as possible. Therefore, I kept the box in my bag for several hours before deciding what to do with it.

When I finally got home (to my new place), I stared at the box on the coffee table. I did not recognize the name on the return address label, and it appeared to be the name of the artist who created the box anyway. A dozen thoughts raced through my head all at once. Who had this sent to me? What was in it? Should I open it?

I started to wonder what Cindy would do if she received such a box in the mail. Without thinking too hard, I knew for certain that Cindy would NEVER have opened it. Some of you (in particular Karin, Erika, and my sister) may remember how Cindy would marvel at the intricacies of a finely wrapped present. Cindy would become so stupefied by the exterior of the gift that she would often place it back down on a table to marvel at it. Sometimes, she would even run her fingers along the creases of the package and on top of the masking tape as if she were caressing a fur coat.

I have mentioned before how Cindy consistently gave way more than she ever chose to receive. She never expected a present and never wanted anything for her birthday or Christmas. When she did receive a present from a friend, it took every ounce of strength in her to open it. I think for Cindy, since she knew how much thought, care, and effort she put into the presents she selected for people, she felt incredibly touched and humbled knowing that someone else would do that for her. In fact, she often treasured the packaging that the presents came in more than the actual gifts themselves. For example, she received a gift from her friend Jamie that was tied with a simple blue and orange silk ribbon. Typical Cindy cherished that ribbon as if it were a family heirloom and saved it for years (she would have kept it forever if Mr. Kitty had not chewed it to bits).

Since I am not Cindy, my instinct was to open the box. After all, it said it contained love. This is the one thing that has kept me going for 3 1/2 months. What if I needed more? But, isn't that selfish? Maybe I should share this with a friend who has not known love? I have already been lucky in this respect for the love that I shared with Cindy was phenomenal, inspiring, and unconditional.

When I started to think about the intensity of my love for Cindy, I opened the box. I miss Cindy. I yearn for the opportunity to say the words "I love you" to her again. For the entire duration of our partnership, I was completely in love with every inch of her physical body and soul. I miss her, in particular, I miss loving her.

I opened the box and it was empty. Not even the name of the person who had this sent to me was inside the box. For a couple of seconds, I was crestfallen. Part of me was hoping that something tangible would have been in that box.

But, when I thought about it a little longer, I realized that what is or is not in the box is inconsequential.

I already know that I am surrounded by love. I saw it this weekend when I met the woman that had stolen my good friend Cheryl's heart. I took such pleasure in seeing the happiness in Cheryl's eyes when she knew that she was going to tell her girlfriend that she loved her. I felt it New Year's Day when I was touring around San Francisco with an old friend that helped me through an incredibly tough time. And I feel it anytime I connect with another person who has also suffered through, yet survived, a similar traumatic experience.

I have decided to keep the box on my nightstand near my bed. In front of the box is a small red heart with the words "love" etched all over it. The red heart is another "love" gift I received in the mail from a friend. For me, both these items represent so much more than love. They represent hope and potential. If I am full of this much love in my hour of darkest despair, I cannot even fathom how overflowing it will be when I fall in love again. So, I look at these items before I go to sleep and get excited for the new day to arrive.


P.S. I looked up the box on the Internet and found some information about it: http://www.artnewsblog.com/2007/06/box-of-love.htm. The box was created by an artist named Franck de Las Mercedes.

I would still like to know who sent this to me. So, if you are out there, let me know so that I can give you a proper thank you.