The Box in the Middle of The Road
I was leaving Crossroads CD and Tapes late one night after closing. It had just began to start snowing in Lexington, Virginia and I knew that it would take me longer to get home. The normal drive was 25 minutes, now with snow, possibly 45. I thought that I might take Interstate 81 up north, but decided against it. With snow, in my car, with so many trucks on the highway, its probably best I avoid the stress and just stick with taking the back roads. I always enjoyed the quiet drive of Route 11. Even at night, I could feel at peace as I drove past small villages and farms. Even though it was late, skipping the interstate and arriving home even later felt okay with me.
As I drove north through the valleys and hills of Route 11, the snow had started to fall harder and began to stick to the pavement. Putting my stick-shift in a lower gear I slowed down as I came to the small town of Fairfield. The town of Fairfield always held happy memories for me. There was Fairfield Day, where everyone in the community would hold a giant yard sale. I would sell GI Joes to try to save up for a Nintendo. I also use to love visiting the antique shops on main street that were full of old tools, wondrous curios, and forgotten trinkets. I particularly remember the racist antique painted metal tray depicting a black-face boy sitting down with his hand in a jar of labeled "Hunney." The negro boy was looking at a bee flying nearby and saying, "Shoo Bee, This ain't yo hive." As racist as this was, in my age of innocence, I thought this depiction was pretty funny. Even now, when encountered by a bee flying nearby, I quote the boy as I wave the bee away.
I felt I was saddened by the days past and to see that the old antique shop I visited as a boy was now closed. But as I passed through the center of the one street town it was silent. There was nobody. The snow was proof of that. No vehicle tracks. No footprints. Then I saw it. Resting in the snow in the center of the road was a box. I swerved slowly around it, looking-leaning towards the passenger window to glimpse at what the box could be holding. There were no labels, just a simple closed cardboard box with light snow on it. I kept going for about 50 feet then I stopped. I shifted my rear view mirror to look at the box again and began to back up. Why was this box in the middle of the road? Why here? Why now? It was almost midnight and now snowing like crazy. How could a box like this be forgotten in such a place like this? I reversed until I was next to the box. I put the car in park in the center of the road, there was no need to worry about blocking traffic.
I crawled out of my car and looked around before going to the box. There was nobody and not a sound. I didn't want to wait much longer in the middle of the road. Quickly I picked up the curious box and placed it in the passenger seat. I hadn't opened it and barely looked for markings. I made my way home. The box rested there in the passenger seat like some happy hitchhiker who had finally gotten out of the snow and had found a ride.
As I continued to drive home, I was torn. I wanted to know what was inside, but at the same time I worried that this box belonged to someone and I would find an address written somewhere small on one of the sides of the box. After about 10 mins of taking my glances off the snowy road and putting them on the box I decided to pull over again to give the box a proper examination. I lifted the box again and shook it. Something was definitely inside. I twisted the box in my hands and tried to look again for a hidden label of destination. There was nothing. At this time I decided to open the box.
I feared that there was something mysterious about this box from it's origin in the middle of the road, in a snowstorm, in the dead of night. Could the contents of the box be dangerous? Paranoid, but determined, I broke the packing tape seal and folded open the sides. From the dim light of the car's dome light, I could see a stack of more small white unlabeled boxes tied together with a ribbon. What was I seeing? I pulled free the ribbon and removed top thin box from the stack. I held it for a second and flipped it over. Again, no markings. This was the moment of truth. What crazy items had I picked up from the road and brought into my car? I lifted the lid and looked inside. A wax paper rested on top. I pulled it away and there were twelve brown lumps separated evenly between thin cardboard spacers. It was Chocolate! I dove into the other boxes. They were all filled with chocolate! Soon, my car began to fill with the aroma of sweets. This was certainly gourmet chocolate and probably very expensive. I didn't know where it came from, there were no labels, so it was hard to say the value.
The paranoia returned! This box chocolate was a bad omen. I closed up the lids, put the chocolate back in the box, and began my drive home again. I couldn't help but get the feeling that this chocolate was set in the middle of the road for a reason. To temp a person like me to pick it up. To take it home. To eat it. To die by... Poisoning! Surely these chocolates were poisoned!
After arriving home, I brought the box to my father and explained the details of my finding them. He looked over the box again and agreed there was no label and no way to return it to anyone. I took one look at the chocolate and said, "Ah! Turtles." He grabbed one quickly and stuck it in his mouth. I was stunned, he hadn't asked and worse he didn't get to hear my theory about them being poisoned! He picked up a box and began to eat a few more. I had to stop him before he killed himself! I took the box away and stared at him. My father had a look of confusion on his face as he chewed slowly. "Dad, what if these are poisoned?" I asked. He chuckled, "They aren't poisoned. Have some."
My father was right, I should try one. I grabbed one of the turtles and placed it in my mouth. The taste was sweet as the chocolate melted and exposed the hard lump of peanuts inside. There wasn't a tang of poison. It was delicious. It was then that I realized that this mysterious box of unlabeled chocolates was a gift. A gift from who? It didn't matter. I had found something delicious that I could share with my family for days to come.
posted by Enigma-Machinist at 10:36 PM
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