I got a weird box in the mail

What was inside changed my life

At long last, a little fiction.

By way of both announcement and excuse, my third child is officially one month old today. And whatever time I’ve been able to steal away I’ve been pouring into

Gods, Ghosts & UFOs

, which, if I may say, is a smashing success so far.

So what I’m saying is that if you’ve really been missing me, now you know where I’ve been.

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Photo by Kelly Sikkema on Unsplash

The Provocation of Hidden Things

You always hope something like this will happen to you. A bespoke mystery delivered to your door.

It was a key in a box. And actually, the box was more interesting than the key. I mean how many Amazon packages do you get in a week? This wasn't that. It was real wood, small, papered over with packing material and postage, but no return address.

The thing came as such a surprise, I took my time opening it. There was no indication of who might have sent it, and no obvious way in but to pry against the squealing protest of tiny staples.

It could have been a house key. Silver, not particularly new, but not showing much wear either. You'd find one like it in any junk drawer or mason jar full of spare hardware. There must be five billion just like it. This one was taped to the bottom of the box, which is why it hadn't rattled around when I shook it.

There was also a note. A single card, bowed lengthwise around the key at the bottom. It had the words, "When you're ready,” written neatly in the center, but not by any hand I could recognize.

When I’m ready?

I frowned.

Ready for what?

And how would I know?

And also who sent this thing to me?

Helpless with questions, I perched on one of the stools at the kitchen bar and searched for more clues.

It’s not like I had anything better to do.

Oh, sure, there was that internal report that needed to be submitted. There was the user data that needed cross-correlation before Friday. A leaky faucet upstairs. One of the bulbs in the garage was out. I hadn’t been to the dentist in like two years.

So, like I said, nothing better to do.

But there were also no more clues. Not on the box, not hidden in any of the packing paper I peeled off, not on the key, not on the note. The postage itself was five floral forever stamps, which could have been acquired at any post office or grocery store in these United States.

I held that key for a long time.

I wandered around my house with it, absently testing it in different locks, vaguely relieved when it didn’t fit any of them. All the time trying to remember if there had been some other door I’d failed to open recently. Some lock that had denied me access to something for which I had presumably not been ready.

Nothing came to mind.

Eventually, the key found its way into my pocket. Loose, at first, until I slipped it onto its own special chain. Checking to be sure it was still there became an unconscious tic. Many times, I was tempted to find a safer place for its keeping, but I couldn’t bear the thought of missing the moment when I might finally get to use it. I wanted to be ready.

I’m not ashamed to admit a few surreptitious investigations into the locks of neighboring doors. Once, in a sort of dread curiosity, I even tried it on the door of one of my good friends, whose wife I suspected might have feelings for me. She didn’t seem the type to send mysterious keys in the mail, but then there’s no lockbox stronger than a human heart.

Locks everywhere became a secret fascination. I contemplated learning the trade, but gave it up as impractical. It was the provocation of hidden things, not the mechanics of hiding them.

Years passed, and still I kept the key in my pocket wherever I went. Each time I tested its fit, my pulse quickened. It became an ecstatic ritual, a way to inject vitality into a day, an hour. A way to make a moment glitter.

I began to realize that so much of the world is hidden. Not only behind locks, but behind the veil of my own limited attention. For everything I look at, for everything I touch, infinities pass unknown, unguessed.

It’s been a long time, now, I realize. I still have the key in my pocket. I still try it on every lock it might fit. But I don’t think I’ve solved many mysteries. Mostly, I’ve discovered that the world is full of them.

But the biggest one, the one that haunts all my waking hours...

When will I be ready?