Article #19: The Puzzle Box
Many years ago, I met an elderly couple. On my first visit to their home for Sunday roast, Mr. Sweetman directed me to some bookshelves. I was expecting to be shown a book, but instead he reached for something that looked like a cigar box. He handed me the box and asked if I knew what it was. I did not, for the box had no lid.
It was a beautiful wooden box with mosaic like patterns, an image of a dragon on one side, and the opposite had a picture of a snow-capped mountain. I handed it back to him and old Mr. Sweetman went pushing some panels on the box and before I knew it, one of the larger panels came sliding off. It was a puzzle box.
Over dinner (the Sweetmans called their midday meal dinner instead of lunch), Mr. Sweetman recounted how when he was just a lad, he went to war and sailed to Asia. He said his stuff always went missing (stolen). When he and a few friends disembarked at a Japanese port to replenish essentials, they came across someone selling puzzle boxes. They each bought one, making sure the box designs were different so they could tell them apart. He used the box to keep money, cigarettes, a broken tooth, and occasionally as a pillow while at sea. The box served him well and he kept the box with him wherever he went.
Some years back when Mr. Sweetman passed away, his widow gave me his puzzle box. Initially I remembered the sequences that Mr. Sweetman had showed me to open the box, however, I have since forgotten and now need the help of online tutorials to do so. While I may have forgotten how to open the puzzle box, now and then I find myself looking at his puzzle box and recalling some story he had told me over those dinners. I remember his stories of war, poverty, hardships, the weather, badgers, slow worms, silly people, God, joy, grief, etc. I also remember he had a few frequently used phrases and his favourite was “Keep on keeping on”.
As I looked at this puzzle box, it never fails to remind me of dear Mr. Sweetman. His life was like a simple looking wooden box. Yet, it was complex like a puzzle. He maneuvered life going pass one panel after another, big or small. Aren’t each of us like a puzzle box too? We come in different patterns and designs. Each of us have paths to take, panels to face yet we know not how many. It is a secret. Let us keep on keeping on. Life is like a puzzle box.
Contributed by
Jeanette Lim