Lyla's Box

It was a morning like every other morning, except it wasn’t. Lyla couldn’t quite put her finger on what was different about this 26th day of July but from the moment her eyes opened and she rolled over in bed, she had a feeling that today was going to be different. Memorable. She arose from her bed and slipped her pink satin robe over her shoulders and went into the bathroom to splash some water on her face before making her way to the kitchen to make some coffee. She had to hurry. Her shift at the hospital began at 7:00 and it was already pushing 6:00. As the coffee was brewing and filling her house with its aroma, she went about beginning her day now that the sleep was leaving her eyes. She brushed her teeth and ran the water for her shower. That feeling in the back of her mind about today being different had not gone away, quite the contrary, it had only gotten stronger the more she tried to ignore it.

She had laid her scrubs out the night before, a habit long since learned from her mother when she was a child, in preparation for the twelve hour work day that lay ahead of her. As she dressed and fixed her hair, she wondered what she might encounter during her shift today. She never bothered to wear much makeup because by the end of the day, most of it would be sweat off anyway, but today she chose to add a little blush to her porcelain cheeks and just the smallest touch of mascara to accentuate her already long eyelashes. By 6:30, she was ready to go.

She stepped outside to an already humid morning. Summer in Tennessee had become excessively humid over the last several years and today was no exception. The moon was bowing down and giving way to the rising sun and as daylight broke through the darkness she could see dew drops dancing on the grass as she stepped onto her front porch. As she turned to lock the door and head for the car she almost missed the medium sized package that was sitting on the table. It was wrapped in brown paper that reminded her of the brown paper bags that her mother used to use to pack her lunch in when she was a little girl. It was carefully and meticulously wrapped, as though whoever had wrapped it had taken great pride in making sure it looked the way they wanted it to before it was placed on her table. Decorated with a bow fashioned from white string, there was nothing on it to identify who might have left it there. She was baffled.

As much as she wanted to take the time to open it, she could not open it right now and she laid it in the passenger seat of her car as she pulled out of her driveway. The drive to work was uneventful, the best part about going to work so early in the morning was that there usually wasn’t much traffic to deal with and she had a few minutes to herself before she had to put everyone else’s needs ahead of her own for the next twelve hours. The hustle and bustle of the hospital in the early morning hours of a weekday can be overstimulating, and today was one of those days. Lyla could not wait for shift change to be over with so that some of the noise would die down.

She tried to treat this morning like any other morning but she was having a difficult time not being distracted. She had left the box in her car and told herself she would open it later, but she just could not help but keep wondering what was in it. She got report on her patients, made her rounds to check on them and then made her way back to a computer so she could chart all the things she had done. As the day wore on, her co-workers had noticed that she was distracted. Morning turned into afternoon and afternoon faded into evening and before she knew it, it was time to report to the oncoming shift and leave to go home. Now she could finally focus on what had been distracting her all day.

The box. As she got into her car to drive home all she could do was stare at it. It still lay in the passenger seat staring her in the face but she wanted to be safe within the walls of her house before she opened it. Upon getting back home, the sky was still light, it would not be dark for another hour or so. In the distance thunder cracked through the sky and she knew a storm was headed her way. Her favorite part of summer. She checked the mail and walked into her cool, quiet house. There was no noise. Just her, alone with her thoughts, and the box. She peeled her scrubs off and changed into sweats and a baggy t-shirt then poured herself a glass of blackberry wine and ordered her favorite Chinese take out. While she waited for the food seemed like the perfect time to see what had been gifted to her.

As she tore back the paper to expose the box she noticed that it was nothing more than an old JCPenney clothing box from years past. It had once been white, but years of sitting in a closet had turned it a creamy yellow color. It was a box like she had seen many times in the closets of her grandmother and mother. And his mother. Looking at it took her back to another time, another place. A time when nothing mattered but the two of them and their love for each other. As she lifted the lid she saw tissue paper, blue tissue paper. His favorite color. Tears filled her eyes before she could even lift the tissue paper back to expose what lay in the box.

Jackson had been the love of her life. They met the first day of her junior year when he was assigned to show her around and make her feel welcome at her new school. From that moment on, the rest was history. He took one look at her and knew that she was the only girl for him. Her soft blue green eyes drew him in and made him feel something he had never experienced before. In his hazel eyes she saw everything she had ever hoped for. He graduated the following spring and told her he wanted to build a better life for himself so that one day they could be together forever. She knew what this meant. He had told her before that he planned to join the military when he graduated but she always hoped he would change his mind. That summer he joined the Marines and in the weeks before he went away to boot camp they spent as many waking moments together as they possibly could. Their last night together before he departed, she gave in and gave herself to him. She told him she would follow him to the end of the earth and she would be waiting on him when he came back. Her promise would turn out to be made in vain. He never returned.

He graduated from boot camp and she attended his graduation with his parents but that day would turn out to be the last time any of them saw him alive. They stayed in touch once he was sent to Iraq by writing letters and talking as often as possible, but one day the letters and calls just stopped. He stopped calling her. He stopped calling his mother. They knew something had to have happened. He would never just stop all communication with them without any kind of warning if it was within his means to warn them. Weeks went by, then months with no word from him.

Their worst fears were confirmed on a cold December morning. Snow was falling gently and peacefully outside when his mother got a knock on her door. The military police had arrived to tell her that her son had been killed in combat. They handed her his dog tags and told her they would be mailing his personal effects within the next few weeks. The next several weeks following his death were a blur. His funeral came and went. By this time, Lyla was entering into her second semester of college. She had declared her major as nursing because she wanted to do something to give back in honor of his memory. His mother spiraled into a depression she never was able to claw herself out of and his father drank himself to death before the age of 60. The glue that had held them all together was gone.

As these memories flashed before her eyes, she was brought back to the reality of what was in front of her. The box. As she wiped the tears from her eyes, she gently pulled back the tissue paper to expose what lay beneath it. First there was a note, she recognized his mother’s handwriting instantly.

Dearest Lyla,

I expect you will be surprised to receive this box and to hear from me after all these years but I instructed my lawyer to give this to you upon my passing. I should have given these items to you long ago, but my heart just would not allow me to do it. Jackson would want you to have them. I want you to have them. I know you loved him the way I always hoped he would be loved even though your love story was cut short. Please know how thankful both his father and I were for the love you showed our only son. We have always loved you like the daughter we never had.

All my love,

Maryann

Beneath the note was the uniform Lyla had asked his parents for years ago. He had been buried in his dress blues but this was the fatigues uniform she loved so much. She thought he looked so handsome in it. Lying next to the uniform was the purple heart he had been awarded when he died in combat. And finally, there was a small box left for her to open. She recognized it as a ring box and upon opening it, she realized that within that box were the wedding rings his mother had worn all those years ago. The marquise cut solitaire and the gold band she wore behind it. She had always admired them. Jackson had told her one day he hoped to give them to her. Now his mother had given them to her. It took her more than a decade to get the closure she needed but opening that box on that hot July night reminded her that true love never really dies.