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I saw the package and was glad the dog next door had not found it first.
I looked around to see if anyone had seen me pick it up, though in this quiet place , who would be out? I took it into the kitchen table, sat at my place and read the post mark.Not where I thought it would be from, as a matter of fact, I was surprised it even had a postmark. But then again, they would do whatever they wanted, I suppose.For me.
I decided to think about it before I opened it. Once I did, there would be no turning back.Isn't that what I had wanted?If you pursue the secrets, normal goes out the window.Something had led me to that secret wish, hadn't it?
A brown paper package.Strange that it should come that way. Simply wrapped.No tape.No postage. No address, only my name written in a script of oddly formed letters, as if the writer was trying hard to copy the style of another.I smelled. Silly, I thought.That isn't going to tell you anything. A smell of sunny days in a long ago, faraway woodland met my memory. I knew it.
I took a deep breath and pulled the ends apart. I spread the paper open. Lights swirled around me. I heard a rush of wings, ferns surrounded me, a waterfall roared beside me,and, trees filled the skies. I stood up. There was a sound of rustling paper. And then I was there.
Home again.

~~~~~~~~~~~
That was fun!

Very cool! I didn't see it coming,and then there it was -- perfect. Thanks for opening the package.

It arrived this morning in a brown paper wrapper. The package I had been waiting for, the one that would change my life forever. If you saw the plain brown box you'd not think anything so life altering could arrive in such an ordinary parcel and yet it was here. My hands shook as I escorted it into the house and set it on the cluttered kitchen table. The magnetic pull was overwhelming. I knew I shouldn't delay. It needed to be opened. I had a long journey ahead of me and the key to my future was in the past. The key from that past, was in this plain brown box.

I ripped open the paper and slid a knife through the tape on the box. There among the old tattered garments that I once wore proudly was the red pin cushion. Not just any pin cushion but the one that had once sent me hurdling back through time and space. A time when my grandmother had yet to be born and a time when I had met the man of my dreams and spent a whirlwind romantic year with him.

How it happened was a mystery, but why it ended was very clear. It was against nature and removing a pin from that pin cushion was the mistake that sent me back to my own time.

I should have been happy to be back to 2008. Glad that I had lived through the crazy adventure. But I'm not. I want to go back to 1893 and live with Joel and so to make sure if anything ever separated us, I could find my way back, I made arrangements for this pin cushion and some of my other belongings to be delivered to me in the future. I knew the day and the hour it would arrive and I've been waiting for it for the last five years, but will it work? Will it repeat it's magic and send me home to Joel or has the magic vanished and now the only thing it can be used for is to hold some pins? I am afraid to find out

Wow! A time-traveling pin cushion is such a great metaphor in this story -- as its pins both bind us together and cause pain in the longing.

I've often fantasized about greeting visitors from that period in history, Louisa May Alcott for one, and traveling back to Concord with her would be another dream worth taking...to meet Emerson, and swim in Walden Pond with Thoreau before the beaches had lifeguards. Wanna send me that cushion?

Have you ever sat in your living room staring at the clock-wondering why time hasn't delivered for you?
You've waited and waited and begged and even pleaded for a small token of recognition...a meager crumb to mark your day
after so many years of service.
Finally you give up.
You put the cat out.
You set up the coffee for the morning.
You wash you face and brush your teeth and begin to climb into bed and the phone rings!

"We have a package for for Miss....
It's marked "urgent"
We pride ourselves on our speedy service-shall we deliver it now, or in the morning?"

"Bring it on over now!" I answer anxiously.

The door bell rings ten minutes later.
I scramble to the door, tip the delivery man and slam the door shut.
It's a plain package.
The box is wrapped in brown paper wtih no return address.
I rip open the covering and see:
'Fredrick's Of Hollywood'

"What in the name of blue blazes can this be?"

I open the box and stare at the contents.
It slips from my hands to the floor.

The next morning, the cleaning lady came in the back door and found the package and a note on the floor in the front hall.
"I'm returning your red bustierre from your initial job interview thirty years ago. Seems it was the only asset you ever had, no matter how promising your career at Maidenform seemed to be at the time."

JB

And what, I wonder, was JB doing hangin' onto that little scrap o' lace for lo these 30 years? Suspense-filled and steaming with possibility...go, Karen!

There it sat suspiciously unevenly wrapped. The paper had splotches here and there. Were they water, grease or something else. It was tied with white string which in some places was embedded with dirt making the string appear more black than white. As I opened the door to look at the package more closely, the crisp October air sent a chill through my hastily donned cotton bathrobe. I stepped outside and my open toed slippered feet poked gingerly at the package. Were the goblins of Halloween early this year? I poked at the package again. There was no rattling sound. I poked a little harder . There seemed to be a mass within, not a completely solid one either there was some give to the mass. Did I dare pick it up. I did. Placing the package to my ear, I heard no ticking. Next, I smell it and got the aroma of yeast and brown sugar. Upon opening the package, there appeared a loaf of oatmeal molassses bread. Oh, I said, Mrs. Koeppe must have sent this by her grandson who can never keep his hands clean.

Amberscribe-

The kid who can't keep his hands clean!

I love it!

I know that kid!
He's in my art class!

Hugs!
Karen

A package wrapped in brown paper, what could that be? I haven't ordered anything that I can remember, but the memory isn't as good as it once was. Wait a minute, this didn't come through the post, there are no stamps, no address, just my name written on it in a very precise, neat style. My old penmanship teacher would have been proud of that and graded it high. Who could it be from? I live alone now, all family is gone, friends have either died or moved away, and all the old loves are long gone. My life consists of few surprises anymore and the ones that have come haven't been the nicest. However, I can't quite see myself as being so unlucky as to be a victim of an Anthrax threat, so might as well open it.

A doggie bone? What is this all about? Oh my Lord, there at the end of the steps, under the bush is a ragged little puppy with soft, sad eyes with a note attached to a frayed, old collar. Reading the note, my eyes tear up, "I watch you in church. You always smile at everyone, you always give when the plate comes around or someone is needing help but you are always alone. Please, miss, will you take this puppy and give him love and care?" Picking the little puppy up, he licks my face and burrows into my arms, I guess one is never too old to have love come into their lives or to be befriended by an angel.