We got lucky: it didn’t rain. It was a GIRLS’ WEEKEND, and after a scrumptious lunch in an old school turned restaurant, we walked along this path. “Gorgeous” hardly describes.
I was in the moment, strolling along and completely enjoying the beauty of my surroundings. Druid that I am, I turned my head toward the bank to spy on the lovely trees nearby. That’s when I saw it.
“I’ll be darned,” I thought, and decided to get a closer look.
My first thought was a phone, but this was thick and the shape wasn’t quite right. My friend climbed up the rocks, pulled the box from its nook, and flipped it over. Instructions!
The pitter patter of my heart quickened. My eyes widened. I smiled at my friend. Her eyes were big and her smile matched mine.You always know your partners in crime. Always.
She shook the tiny metal box. It rattled. I thought coins. She was unsure.
We saw the words. After looking at the printed, perfectly spaced lettering, I suspected this was the working of adults, not children.
I was hoping we’d found a treasure, a child’s treasure. I was secretly delighting in the fact that we’d found a space, a coveted spot along the river, a place of peace and solitude; a place for reflection and to fill your cup. The sight of the box took me instantly back to my childhood where I, too, had a place where I could be. Just be. Part of me wanted to put the box back without knowing, without learning of the contents within. To look felt intrusive.
Curiosity won; we had to look. We had to follow instructions. It was meant to be. Slowly, she opened the box.
After we’d had our fill marveling over the contents, she said she wished she had something to add. I looked in my purse and came up with two items. She had one.
It wasn’t much, but we made our deposit. She put the box back in its nook. We then meandered along the trail, happy in the knowledge we were going to make a child smile. We wished we could be there when said child showed up and delighted in the new additions. We couldn’t stop smiling. The ripple effect has its pluses.
“Oh, that’s geocaching,” he said when I got home and told the husband about our discovery.
“Geo who?” I asked. My inner, happy bubble began to deflate.
“It’s a game, been around for years,” he explained. I tried not to look completely devastated.
“You take something away and add something new,” he said, “and it’s about coordinates.”
A quick google search (imagine that!) showed me this is not only a game, there are applications for my phone. Of course there would be applications. What doesn’t have an application? My bubble was flat.
I know you are out there, child of my heart. You need that space by the river, a place to recharge. You need peace and solitude (most especially, to get away now and then from our hyper tech world). So, the next time I find a box with “open sesame” instructions, I’ll do exactly what I did this time. I’ll deposit without taking. I’ll think of you. I’ll hope I made you smile. And, then, I will smile (and continue down the path).