Paige wrote on the lid: For my future self.

Open whenever I choose.

The words made me smile.

The box was no longer an object that concealed a secret from someone who deserved to know.

It had become a place where that same person could choose what to preserve and when to return to it.

Later, as I cleared the table, Gregory leaned against the doorway.

“I think that’s the first box in this house I’ve ever been happy to close,” he said.

“Because we know she can open it,” I answered.