"What is it, Dad?"
"What kind of gift would it be if I told you?" said Wendy's father. "It is a Mystery Box."
Wendy had unwrapped the gift, and within the gift box had been another wrapped box. The label read "Wait". She held the four inch square cube in her hand, feeling the texture of the wrapping. Not paper. Something like burlap. When she turned the box something shifted inside. It did not make a sound.
"Can I open it yet?" she asked.
"In a moment, if you want to." said her father. "Did you smell it? It smells old, like it has been around awhile. Not unpleasant, just the scent of many years."
She brought it near to her nose, and inhaled. Yes. Time rested lightly on the surface, permeating the cloth wrapping.
"Did you regift this?" she asked.
Her father smiled. "Yes. On purpose. That is part of the mystery."
Wendy looked at her father, trying to read what was behind the intensity of his gaze.
"My father brought that to me when I was about your age." he said.
"Oh. A hundred years ago." Wendy quipped. Her father chuckled.
"I asked when I could open it. The same label was on it. 'Wait.'" he continued. "My father said I could open it after I had thought about it for a bit."
Wendy turned her head a bit to the side, looking at the Mystery Box.
"You didn't open it." she said.
"No. I realized that if I didn't open it, there were infinite possibilities as to what might be inside."
"An eternal mystery." Wendy said, softly. It was almost a sigh.
"I can't give you the world, Wendy. I can give you possibility and hope for the future." said her father. "You can open it whenever you like."
Wendy was turning the box in her hands when she heard the door close.
Infinite possibility, all in a little box.
She read the label one more time, and then placed the unopened box where she could see it every morning upon waking.
"Infinite possibility." she whispered. "What a great gift. It goes with everything."