Mystery Box

Window seats in restaurants are often coveted, they give the diners a view of the outside world. Enhancing the experience of going to a restaurant as the world goes about its work without you. You sit, eat, look, drink and enjoy. And lets face it going out for meals is a real pleasure. I love it. You are waited on, asked what you want, you have choice, what do you feel like? Fulfil your whim.

As I walk past I view the window diners with envy. There is an elderly couple leaning back and having cappuccinos, a woman with a child and all the paraphernalia of pram, mess, big bag and food. The two of them are sharing one bowl of pasta. I love the sharing food thing. When I grew up this never happened and as a big hungry family you didn’t dare leave your dinner plate abandoned. A hungry brother or sister was bound to steal your food. Mum made around 300gms of steak feed five of us by bashing it out flat. It was bigger, but thin, lean meals.

Once particular diner grabs my attention, a lone brunette who glances at her watch. She is obviously waiting for someone as she isn’t reading a paper like lone diners usually do. Plus there is something different about her, she has a great big pink present on the table, waiting. My attention turns to the present. It’s a box, large, taking up most of the table. A pink layer of wrapping paper is overwrapped with cellophane. Its shiny. Ribbons top it off. It’s a dream present. Large exquisitely wrapped and box shaped. Boxes can contain just about anything, but generally speaking its something precious to warrant a box.

As I continue on my walk and past the café my mind returns to the errand I am on. There are five things to purchase milk bread cheese bananas and sugar. Anymore than five and Id need to write a list. It is said that you can only really be close to five friends at one time. Five lives to enter, remembering and caring about details. Five fingers on your hand.

I wait at the traffic lights with the bleep beat. Looking at the pub across the road I think of the times I’ve spent there. Once they gave me a free drink just for saying please. I was shocked my simple manners were noticed.

Feeling the presence of another pedestrian I fiddle with my bag. The bleep signals its time to walk and we head across the road. The pub smells of stale beer and cigarettes. The smoke continues outside the TAB. My pace is faster than my waiting pedestrian and I am now near the hairdressers. Hairdresser noise escapes the doors, Hairdryers, and raised voices. Looking in I see women looking at themselves with women looking at themselves doing hair. Mirrors mirrors everywhere, Women reading about other women, Wet hair, towels, plastic tight necked capes. A kaleidoscope of hair bits on the floor, walked through, stood in, swept up.

A cafe strip with outdoor dining. I dodge an ‘A’ frame sign declaring a glass of wine and pizza for $15. Dannys Thai bistro, Gusto , Rain, Mannys. I feel like an intruder in the dining room of these lunch time patrons. Head down, I continue on my misson. The pavement looks grotty, blackened with food.

A bank with ATM waiting to dispense. Bored security guard next to opening doors. A men’s clothing store, empty and quiet, monochrome shirts hanging in the window, a sign declaring SALE. Old leaves gathered in a corner. Cars in a busy intersection, trying to turn, indicators on. People on the road, a big yellow bus, delivery van coming through. Another busy café with outdoor diners to be seen and look at. The happy noise of everyone talking at once. The clink of cutlery. A record shop, music flows onto the street, rows of neatly alphabetised music.

Finally my destination, the Supermarket. A red empty basket. Can I remember my five items? I am already lured to purchase strawberries they are on special. The bananas are green. The fruit is all laid out to pick. On display, origin stated.

Take a number wait your turn for sliced meats. Cold, dead, wrapped and weighed. Neat aisles of categorised packaged food. Brought together and displayed for convenience. Pick me, pick me. Organised labelled and priced. There is an abundance. Too much choice, too much food.
“Security check in area 3”
Easy dinners, Muzak. Wayward trolleys. Artificial light.
What is so super?
Strawberries, yogurt, Danish, juice, jam, milk, bread, cheese, bananas, and sugar selected, carried, bar code read, bagged and bought.

Outside traffic noise, two heavy bags to carry. Retracing my steps. Its downhill now, easier and its all been seen before. Then I recall the pink present. Was the brunette still waiting? What is in the box? The sun has come out it warms my face. I feel thirsty. The plastic bags hurt my hands. The lights are red. I wait….

Will the brunette be gone? Will the gift be on display stripped of its wrappings.? Is it beautiful? Will I ever know what’s in the box?

I reach them. The brunette and her new companion, a blonde, are all smiles. There are hand gestures. The brunette is talking with great enthusiasm, she is animated. The blonde reaches towards it, smiling. It sits before them on the table. The gift has been given. Open. I stare.

The mystery of possibility is more interesting than reality.