Something Special

Smiling used to come natural to Margaret. She would wake up and as soon as she realized where she was and who she was…a slow smile would take over her face. It would start at the edges of her mouth and with a tingly feeling it would rise gently into a grin. The grin would ignite the eyes into a joyous twinkle. The Twinkles turned to giggles and anyone and everyone who saw Margaret would get butterflies in their stomachs. But not today.

They had not really been sisters. Not the kind from the same mommy and daddy and not the type from a different mommy and daddy that got married. Nope. They were the type of sisters who just knew, the minute they laid eyes on one another, that that was the other half. That one is family. That one is my sister forever and ever and ever and even ever again.

That one had been named Sylvie. Sylvie had been everything to Margaret. In pre-school, Sylvie had been the hand she held when they had to face other kids in the playground. In kindergarten Sylvie had been the one who pushed the boy down when he teased her. In the first grade Sylvie had been her reading buddy. In the second grade Sylvie had held her in her arms for a year after her puppy, Charlie, who wasn’t really a puppy anymore, had gone to sleep and never woken up. But now, when Sylvie had gone to sleep and not woken up…there was no one to hold her.

See, Sylvie ha a certain way of holding her that felt like the truth. It didn’t feel like mommy’s hugs, that came because she was the mommy and was supposed to give hugs. And they didn’t feel like the daddy’s hugs that were a little too squeezy and big an always seemed to come with a sigh. No, Sylvie’s hugs made Margaret feel like she belonged and Margaret needed to belong. To something.

The box was in her room when she rolled over from her nap. It was big and square and covered in brown paper like the man at the sandwich shop uses on daddy’s Rueben’s. She looked at her door. It was a squeaky noisy door but she had heard no squeaks. She hadn’t heard her mommy bring it in and mommy could never lift this big old box by herself. Daddy? No, he was at work. She saw him leave from her bedroom window. He was in a hurry, always in a hurry, and hadn’t looked back. Mommy had asked her what she wanted from the store and then took the other car and left. Margaret was home alone. Then who brought the box?

She stood next to it now, examining it for writing. Nothing. Her little flowered nighty was damp with sweat. No label’s and no addresses or names…anywhere. She leaned in closer and smelled the box. Paper smell. She touched it lightly, yep, cardboard. Maybe if she opened it? She reached for the folds…but there were none. No place where the paper was taped over the box, no seams, no perforated pulls, no way to open it? Frustrated, she tried to push it but it wouldn’t budge. Heavier than her?

She grabbed her magnifying glass and pen-light from her desk drawer. A long measuring tape and markers. Then the box wiggled.

Margaret fell back, startled, onto the floor and then quickly scurried backwards and up into her bed. She pulled the overs up over her face. Shut her eyes. But she heard the box shift and then it moved. Inch by inch it seemed to edge it’s way closer and closer to…her.

Her heart beat fast and loud in her ears. Her breathing was fast and shallow. She wished that Sylvie was there, Sylvie would know exactly what to do. Hug her.

A ripping noise that started small and slow came from the box but as the sound went on longer it got louder and faster. Something was ripping its way out of the box and into her room.

Silence can be scarier that loud noises because in silence you expect things. She expected monsters. Ghosts. Aliens. Witches. Goblins. She pulled back the covers slowly so that she could pull them back over her face real fast if she saw something scary.

The box was now separated into two equal halves. And the inside of the box was as plain as the outside. Her eyes desperately searched her bedroom for the beast. Her desk? Clear. The fort she had made to hide from herself in? Empty. OMG…under her bed?!!!!

Margaret’s eyes were big and brown and kind of red from crying all week. But they were open wide as, after tossing a few shoes underneath, she looked under her bed. Nothing special. Just dirty socks and dolls and her gymnastics uniform.

This time when she turned towards the box. It was gone. As if it had never been there. She rubbed her eyes…a dream? While awake? Like in the movies?

The corner of her eye made out a gentle movement on her desk. And then she saw it. Something like a ball of shimmering bluish clay except it moved and writhed and twisted and turned, slowly and calmly. The movement of the sphere that elongated into a tube and then back into a sphere again, did something to her face. It started at the edges of her mouth and with a tingly feeling it rose gently upwards into a grin. The grin tickled the bottom of her eyes the eyes into a joyous twinkle. The twinkle turned into a giggle as she rose up an ran over to her desk.

As if sensing her approach the something rose upwards, straight up, spinning and twirling it’s inner light, making light designs on her bedroom walls, which gave Margaret’s stomach butterflies.

There was something familiar about this something. She gazed at its light and it’s light gazed into her. Before she could reach out to it wrapped itself around her and squeezed.

The squeeze was more like a hug. It felt like the truth. And suddenly, Margaret, felt like she belonged to something.

Something Special.