Little Boxes

Little Boxes
*
 When I opened the matchbox 
and looked inside, I 
naturally expected 
to find something, 
because there’s usually 
something in boxes and 
containers. I wasn’t 
expecting matches — no, 
definitely not! I wasn’t 
that unimaginative, after 
all. But there was 
nothing inside except a 
small spinning disc with a 
spiral painted on it. 
It looked like a 
whirlwind, but one trapped 
in a box. I’d never seen 
anything like it before. 
Without thinking, I spread 
myself thin and leapt into 
the blue spiral vortex. 
Instantly, I felt dizzy. 
Everything spun around me, 
and suddenly, I was sitting 
in a meadow, where a tree 
stood, solitary, but strong. 
Oddly, matchboxes hung from 
its branches like fruit. I 
picked one and looked inside. 
Of course, I expected to find 
something. Matches? No, 
definitely not! I wasn’t 
that unimaginative now. 
But once again, there was 
nothing inside except a 
small spinning disc with 
a spiral, like the one I 
had just encountered. 
A whirlwind, trapped in 
a box. It was all too 
familiar. Once more, I 
spread myself thin 
and jumped into the 
blue spiral vortex. 
The dizziness returned, 
this time even stronger, 
and when the spinning 
stopped, I was back in 
the meadow, only now there 
were more trees—trees 
with matchboxes growing 
on them. I plucked one, 
my hand hesitating over 
the lid. But this time, 
I was afraid 
to look inside.