The other night E.B. and I stopped to pay a visit to my aunt and uncle. When we were about to leave, my aunt handed me this and said that E.B. had sat it down when he came in and she didn’t want him to be upset if he left it:
It’s beautiful, right? A pill box. Almost vintage looking.
A pill box.
An EMPTY PILL BOX???!!!!
I immediately swore that, no, he couldn’t have brought it in. I don’t have a pill box and no, it was just impossible. Perhaps it was theirs?
No, my aunt insisted. It was not. So we asked E.B. where he got it.
“Grandma gave it to me.”
Grandma. We had been at Grandma’s house. Grandma, who is now on heart medication because of her recent bypass and valve replacement surgery. Enough medications, I’m sure, to keep the pharmacy in business. E.B. was acting fine, but I was in panic mode as I dialed Grandma’s number to confirm my fears.
It turns out that yes, Grandma did give it to E.B. He had spotted it in a stack of things she was about to donate to a yard sale. And yes, it was empty when she gave it to him.
Oh. Oh, thank God.
I could breathe.
How this slipped by me, I will never know. In any case, we are the proud new owners of a yard sale cast-off pill box and my heart sure got a workout.
