Birthday week

The most remarkable thing about a birthday is the anticipation. It is two days before my 22nd birthday, and I am sitting in my living room, glaring unrelentingly at this package in front of me. It is filled with birthday gifts from my mom in Florida, and they have been taunting me all afternoon.

There is much curiosity waiting for me in that box, and my imagination is going wild. I have reverted to a childish state where my self control is dwindling. At first, it was simply excitement, now it is bordering on obsession. What is in that box? An hour ago, I had to find out.

So, I ripped the tape off, closed my eyes tight, threw my hands inside and felt around. I knew I was just teasing myself, that I couldn't actually have any of the things inside until Thursday, but something inside of me thought it was necessary to at least have an idea. So I wiggled my little fingers around inside the box, and the marvelous things I discovered only bloomed more curiosity in me.

Fabrics of many different textures lay bundled up against each other at the bottom, and on the top were hard, rectangular things! My mom told me she didn't buy any books for me, but there are many things that feel remarkably like books in there. Perhaps a journal? Perhaps boxes of things? Things! So many things await inside that mysterious, brown package.

But there is nothing I can do. Peeking in there would be an insult to my self control, as well as a bringer of ruin for Thursday, when I will have no other packages to open.

How can one little box be so mysterious and exciting? It has no color, no interesting shape or texture other than the smooth, glossy tape stretched across the familiar feel of cardboard. It isn't sprouting ribbons and donning bows, or wriggling around with life, yet it reduces me to being nine years old again.

How curious!