The Two-Toned Suitcase

A person's similar and parallel lives both before and after opening a suitcase that exposes him and his society to the good and the bad of using money in society.

“Papa, c'mon. It's time for breakfast at the eating place.” Lisa giggles as she splashes some water onto my sleeping eyes. She is my love and my joy.

"OK little Lisa" I retorted as I smiled, rubbing the cool, wet water and some night-time sand from those same groggy, dark-brown eyes.

I pull myself up from the thick, cushioned blanket on the dirt floor where I sleep. 

“Let's get ready to go, baby. Maybe we can help clean up the eating place after our meal today.”

We always like to help out.

“Oh, dad, I'm not a baby anymore” Lisa whimsically snickers at me. She nearly sings the words. My little baby girl is growing up so quickly.

Lisa turned four years old last November. Next September, I will be twenty-five.

Time to have breakfast at the eating place with everyone else.

It is informal. We come and go as we please. Some of us get there early to help cook the meals. Others stay late and clean up. Many times, I'll just have a cup of coffee, or maybe I'll take a snack with me.

Little Lisa's mother would often cook at the eating place. Karen was very special that way. She loved helping out.

Me, I could only clean up after everyone had finished their meal. Except for a few other simple maintenance jobs around the village, that is all I can do. My injuries after the fall take their toll on me. My aggravation and my pain go unnoticed by most people around me. I hide it well. I just hold my head up and keep doing what I can.

After I bathe in the bathhouse, I still wonder when I will ever need to shave. Some people must shave their whiskers, but, so far, I didn't have many whiskers. So, I don't shave. Maybe I will never shave. Many of the men don't. They just trim the hair on their faces.

Lisa plays. She draws in the dirt. Young Lisa becomes anxious when they visit the bathhouse. I step out of the soap room, wearing my dark-brown robe. The two taller gentleman with shiny, hairless heads are talking to each other. We don't understand what they say. They speak with a different tongue.

Their skin is pale. They aren't from around here. I smile and shout toward them, “Good morning, gentlemen.” Lisa is still playing and laughing, running to and fro. She is such a joy to have around.

The tall strangers tower over the rest of us in the bathhouse. Myself, I am tall, too. Maybe the strangers are seven-and-a-half feet tall. I can't tell for sure, but they are huge. The look on their faces isn't as cheerful as ours. Who are they?

We have nothing to be unhappy about here in the village. We eat, we sleep, we take care of where we live, and we cook. Other times, we clean up, we wash our clothes, we make things to use around our homes, and we do other chores. Of course, we have our family. That is all our life is about. We feel blessed.

The strangers look differently than all the other people in our village. They are taller, and they have funny skin on their faces. Neither visitor has a beard, or any hair on their heads. That looks strange to me. It is something that I notice right away. It gets all of our attention. But, let's welcome them just like everyone should be welcome here.

The tallest fellow brings his tan suitcase to me. I don't know why he picked me out of the crowd; maybe because I am tall. His left hand tightly grips the narrow, pale handle of the suitcase. There is a golden-brown brassy-colored zipper etching a path straight across a slightly curved, long, brown side-panel. From one edge to the other. He places the cold, hard handle against my right palm. I grab it, instinctively. Now, the suitcase is in my hand.

The room is uncommonly quiet and strangely peaceful; at least it seems that way to me. He speaks to me in a distinctly low, deep, and humble voice; “Please accept this.” His words and their meaning are understood by me, but, by no one else. I look at the suitcase in my hand. He then places his right hand into his dark-colored shirt-pocket and pulls out a small metallic key. A single, thick banded golden ring sparkles around his middle finger. The ring has a large mounting on it. For what?

The key must be to unlock the suitcase. I would find out later.

I could see the funny skin on his face move around. That doesn't seem normal. But, we don't know anything about the strangers. They may have different ways. His light-blue eyes are set deep within each eye socket, carved into his face just behind his long, straight nose. His broadly spaced eyes blink very quickly. I have never seen anything like that before.

Then he speaks:

“The receptacle I have placed on your grip is an astonishing courier."

"What it carries is far more than the boundless sum of its contents.”

By this time, I no longer notice the others in the bathhouse. I can feel Lisa near me, but I am unable to look at her. Maybe it is a hypnotic trance.

He speaks again:

“We will leave this receptacle with you - you and your people. You alone have been selected as the guardian of the receptacle. You have been chosen to determine its value and the fate of the suitcase.”

When he said that, I was unsure of what he really meant by those two words, value and fate.

Then he utters:

“In return, the contents may well determine your fate and your value. If and when you open the suitcase, we hope you will take great care and understand that it might never be closed again. You all will decide.”

He continued to say:

“Please take extreme care. Many things have changed because of the suitcase. Some changes can never be revoked. Study this receptacle long and hard before deciding whether to open it for eternity, or to forever leave it closed.”

The two men left. They walked out as they had first arrived. Then they were gone.

My mind was filled with many possibilities about why this one suitcase might cause so many changes for me and for all of us, both good changes and evil. But, just as the tall men have forewarned us, we must study the receptacle before making a final decision.

My thoughts spun round and round inside my head. After meeting and talking with the two tall men, everything became surreal. Who are they? Where do they come from? Where are they going?

Now that the tall ones are no-longer around, my feelings of angst disappear. My apprehension can finally dissolve. Even little Lisa's nervousness is soon gone. Everything slowly becomes more normal to me, to all of us.

What could be so perilous, so capable of dramatic change, that by just looking inside this one suitcase, my whole worldview, all my thoughts and my perceptions, and even my outlook of life and death will change forever.

The two-toned tan suitcase stayed with me for many, many weeks before I thought about opening it and viewing its contents. Both strange tall men with hairless, shiny heads left us. They never came back. So I finally opened the two-toned suitcase.

Early the next morning, I awoke to the sound of my alarm clock.

“Well, it's time to get ready for work.”

I didn't remember going to bed last night.

As I shave, I notice more wrinkles on my face from worrying about my bills. It looks like funny skin to me.

I think to myself:

“I better get Lisa ready and take her to the day-care center. She doesn't mind going anymore.”

Then I realize we still have time for breakfast at the Eating Place on the third-floor of our high-rise before we go to the center. She likes the food there and it doesn't cost me too much money. Lisa will always like the meals Karen made much better. Karen would often cook breakfast for us all. She was very talented that way.

I sometimes think back to opening the suitcase and how I found all the money in it. It seems that before that happened, being alive was very different. That way-of-life has gone away; as if it was taken from me. I can hardly remember it now. Life was very different before I opened that money suitcase. I only wish I could remember better. But, life and work and Lisa consume me day and night.

My injuries from the car wreck still affect me daily. My aggravation and my pain go unnoticed by most around me. I hide it well. Barely visible, unless you knew me before. Even that was always changing.

Lisa turned four years old last November. Next September, I will be twenty-five.