In which a box is discovered.

Heaven only knows how long it had waited.

For close to a decade the box sat in the crowded garage, but its contents hadn't seen use in far longer. I can be patient, the box thought, For someday, someone will have need of me again. And so it sat.

And it sat.

And it sat.

Did the box grow discouraged as it waited? Perhaps when the purple pair of roller blades was leaned up against it, it felt insulted. Maybe when the plywood planks tilted to block it from sight it was offended. One can never be sure with boxes. It has been a few years, the box mused to itself, Surely they will use me soon!
 But no one came.
And still it sat. 

For years it waited, and no one even knew it was there. This is somewhat disheartening, thought the box.
Then one day, the inevitable happened: the garage had to be reorganized. Things were moved, removed, and scattered about for a woodworking project. The box was moved from its long hiding place and set out in the middle of the floor with a host of other displaced items. 

Then it happened: someone saw the label on the box and said to themselves, "1964? What is this?" And the box thought, At last! 

The box was carefully opened, and there inside were fragile things wrapped in brown paper and bubble wrap. Then a girl came and looked into the box. "I remember these!" she cried, "Nana said whoever got married first could have them!" 
The box carried a set of china plates and saucers and teacups and salad plates that had belonged to the girl's great-grandfather. None of them had even realized it was in the garage!

The contents of the box were gently removed and set inside the house and counted. There was just enough for two eight-piece sets of beautiful pale china with roses emblazoned on them.

And the box was happy.