The Boxes

She stood there amongst the other souls, looking at the beautiful array of boxes.
So many to choose from.
All different sizes, different colours, different designs.

She had to make a decision; her turn would soon come.

Maybe this one...
No wait I think this one...
Possibly this one…
None of them was the right one!

Something wasn't right with the boxes.
She knew this deep inside of her.
It was her gut, telling her, begging her to listen, telling her she had the answer already, instinctively.

She hesitated for a minute and then stepped forward to receive her box.
In that moment, she had made her decision...

“So which one would you like?”

“You can choose. It doesn't really matter to me. Just give me any one. The most plain, the smallest, it really doesn't matter what it looks like.”

She was handed a simple box. It was plain. It was small. No designs, or patterns, or bows, or pretty labels.

She smiled and giggled as she walked away with her little box.

She knew that no box was going to work for her.

No box was going to be big enough to house all her thoughts and dreams.

No box was going to be bright enough to reflect what was in her heart.

No box would be able to withstand the raging fire in her soul.

No box was strong enough to restrain her wild side, her passion.

No décor, or bows, or labels on the box, would even begin to describe the passionate, wild, loving, caring, and nurturing soul that she was.

She knew she would never allow herself to be placed in ANY box.

She was an old soul, full of love, care, compassion, empathy, and with a fire inside of her.

She was a rebel.
She was wild.
She was free.
She is me!