The Coconut

Once upon a time, in November of 2001 to be exact, W. and I went to Florida for the weekend. We had unused airplane tickets from the year we didn't go to Chicago for Thanksgiving because the cat had suffered a "degloving" incident when he got his tail caught in the door to the apartment. We finally got around to trading in the tickets and set out for Florida instead. W. lived there once upon a time, so he knew the lay of the land, and we spent most of the time driving around in a rented convertible. It was great. It was like visiting a foreign country.

At some nature preserve somewhere, I found a coconut in the parking lot. It had fallen out of a tree. I scooped it up and tossed it in the back of the car, because I just needed it. Later in the day, we passed a Mailboxes Etc. and I shrieked "stop the car!" I ran in, asked for a box, sealed the coconut inside, and mailed it to my sister. No note. No explanation. And we went on our merry way.

At Christmas the following month, I opened a box. Inside was the coconut, now adorned with yarn hair and Sharpie eyes. And with that, the coconut began an international journey of subterfuge and deception. It's been left under the seats of cars, hidden in closets. It's been passed on to other (innocent) people with the instruction "wrap this and give it to my sister". It's been shipped across the country. It's had a few more makeovers - including glued on googly eyes and new brown hair and earrings.

Last Christmas, my sister had possession of the coconut. She mailed it to our sister-in-law's sister in Canada, and asked her to wrap the box (without opening it) and give it to our sister-in-law when they opened their presents. Shock and hilarity ensued.

The coconut spent a couple of months in the guest room at my mother's house; it's now living in Brooklyn with my brother and sister-in-law. I don't know where it's going to turn up next. I only wish that we'd taken more pictures of its travels.