The Box of Questions

Puschel set an empty box on the low table. Flauschi placed a few small pieces of paper beside it. Puschel“What shall we give the box?” Flauschi“Questions. For a cosy evening with friends and family.”

Puschel peered inside. There was nothing in it yet except space. He liked that. Puschel“Then I’ll choose a very big question: what would you eat if a whole day consisted of breakfast?” Flauschi laughed. Flauschi“That sounds very much like your sort of question.”

They put the idea on a slip of paper and folded it. Puschel carefully placed it in the box. Breakfast was now tucked inside without a single crumb falling on the floor. Puschel“A remarkably tidy way to store food.”

Flauschi picked up the next slip. Flauschi“What sound makes an evening feel cosy to you?” Puschel listened for a moment. A log crackled in the fireplace. Puschel“Perhaps that one. Or somebody saying: I still have time.”

They carried on collecting ideas. What colour would laughter be? Which outing together would they like to enjoy again? Which stories did their friends especially like hearing? Some questions were silly, while others were a little thoughtful. They could sit side by side in the box.

Then Puschel held up a folded slip. Puschel“What if somebody doesn’t want to answer my breakfast question?” Flauschi“Then we simply pass it on. Or choose another.” Puschel nodded happily. A question should be an invitation, after all.

They laid the lid beside the box and looked at their little collection. The pictures from the previous two days still lay near the edge of the table. Puschel“Now we have pictures to look at and questions to talk about.” Flauschi“And plenty of room for answers we haven’t even imagined yet.” Until their celebration, there would be time to add a few more.