Lessons of Life in a Box

 

 

 

Lessons of Life in a Box

            Throughout our lives we have experiences that for some reason stick in our memories forever.  Perhaps they stay there until we are able to reflect back and learn from the experience.  One of my earliest lessons presented itself to me when I was eight years old....

                        At the time we lived in Canyon Country, in a growing development. My house was not far from my friend Kasey's.  They were separated by a wash basin that was wide and at that time dry.  I had crossed this wash so many times going to and from Kasey's house that I knew it well.

            The day had been warm and was spent with my girlfriend.  I don't really recall how we spent it.  We may have  ridden her dad's horse or played with the many toy one's we had.  Regardless of how we may have spent the time came for me to head on home. It was on my home that I found the box.

            It was that on this particular day that I was headed home from Kasey's when a box, that was not there earlier, caught my eye.  As an eight year old I was both curious and cautious.   As I approached the box I wondered who would have placed it there.  I recognized the box as the same type of laundry detergent box that my mom used.  It looked as though someone had cut the top off and had placed open end up.  I approached the box slowly,  as if waiting for something to jump out of it and scare me.  I  got closer and nothing jumped out.  Looking over the edge of the box I discovered six or eight very tiny baby mice.   

            "OH MY GOSH!" I thought to myself  "Who would leave them here?"  I knew they would die within a few hours.  Being the animal lover I was, I knew that I needed to rescue the mice.  I gently picked the box up and headed on home.   I just knew that my parents would be proud of me.  I walked into the house so tall and sure of myself; anticipating a hero's welcome.

            "Mom?" I called out.

            "In the kitchen." My youthful mother replied.  Mom was in her twenties at the time.

            "Look what I found in the wash." I said, holding up the box of baby mice for to see.  "Someone just left them out there."  I stated with a tone of disgust in my voice.  I couldn't understand how someone could be so cruel. 

            Her reaction to the mice completely caught me off guard.

            "Tracy Micheyl, you had better take that box and those mice back to where you found them.  Your daddy put them out there to die."  She said that so calmly and in a matter of fact way.  I couldn't believe my dad could be that cruel.

            "No! He did not!"  I responded, as I raised my voice.  I could feel the tears welling in my eyes.  My grip on the box tightened in an attempt to protect the tiny mice.

            "Tracy, your father found them in the garage and we can't have them living there." Again, she spoke so calmly, about disposing of God's innocent creatures.  These were little lives.

            As tears rolled down my cheeks I begged, "Please don't make me take them back to die!".  After a few minutes of pleading my mother gave up the argument stating ,"You will have to convince your father when he returns home."

            "OK." I responded between sniffles.

            So wiping my tears on my sleeve and clinging to the box, I headed for my room.  There I waited for several hours.  Watching over my new charges ever so closely.  I spent the time planning what I would say to daddy when he got home. 

            As the sun began to set, I heard the sound of daddy's truck in the driveway.  All of the sudden I was afraid.  Would he even listen to me?  Would he yell at me for bringing them back to the house?  Would I be punished for refusing to follow my mother's direction?

            I heard the front door open and my father and mother greeting each other.  I could not understand their words as their voices were hushed and low.  I just knew they were talking about me and my head raced through all the things I had planned to say.  I looked at the baby mice and reminded myself that I had done the right thing.

            The sound of daddy's footsteps got louder as he came down the hall toward my room.  Daddy opened the door looking tired from his long day at work.  He sighed as he came through my bedroom door. 

            "I hear you have something to say to me girl?" His voice was low and appeared very calm.

            "Daddy why?" Was all I could say as the tears welled up in my eyes spilling down my cheeks.  I pulled the box onto my lap and sat holding it tightly.

            "All right girl.  For you I will take care of them."  He said smiling at me, wiping my small right cheek with his large rough skinned hand.

            "Give me the box and go on to dinner." He said in closing.

            "Thank you daddy, thank you!"  I exclaimed.

            He gave me a kiss on the head and took the box with the tiny mice back to the garage.  I was proud of myself that I convinced daddy to save the mice.

            Flash forward about eighteen years. Daddy and I were watching a football game.  The weather was hot outside and the house cooler was blaring away.  I am not sure why but the mice in the box popped into my thoughts.  I began to look at my dad with a thought of saying thank you again.  I wanted him to know that eighteen years he really tried to make his little girl happy.  However when he turned to look at me; I knew the truth........

            "What?" He asked

            "You never put those mice back. Did you?" I asked.

            "Hell no!" He stated.  "What even made you think of that?"  He asked as we both laughed.

            I responded "Not a clue daddy. Not a clue."

            What seemed like life's biggest crises at eight years, now seemed like and act done out of necessity.