My Music Box

My father bought me a beautiful piano music box -- almost exactly like the one above -- when I was a baby. It needed winding and the lid of the piano had to be open for the music to play. I don't remember what classical piece it played but it was soothing. He'd hoped it would lull me to sleep, but the music box wasn't a good substitute for his voice, and I didn't fall asleep to the music. After these events, I'm not sure the sound was so comforting.

    When my father returned home from the railroad, he'd gone into the kitchen to see my mother and offer to help with dinner. They chatted a bit about his day and hers. She casually inserted that she believed something was wrong with the house. 

    He responded with something like, "You said you didn't want to talk about this. I've tried to discuss it before but you told me not to. You think by talking about it we're inviting things in." 

    "I know but now your friends are playing with the music box," my mom answered.

    "What do you mean?"

    "It plays all by itself."

    "Well, close the lid and don't wind it."

    "You don't think I already thought of that. I did close the lid. It still plays. I don't touch it!"

    That left him puzzled. 

    Until one day he was home alone, and he settled on the couch for a nap. The only creature in the house was our black standard poodle, Dutch. As my father got comfortable, a tinkling sound came from the other room. He got up, walked toward the sound and realized it was the closed music box playing.

    Thanks for reading and stopping by! Please drop a comment below to let me know you were here. Has anything like this happened to someone in your family or maybe a friend? 

Next time: The Flying Blanket