This morning the jarred person woke up with twinkling eyes and smiling lips, upbeat, enthusiastic and even down right playful. The free person, ever determined to open the jar, worked vigorously on the wire lid. They joked back and forth, one of them said something about a “man from Nantucket,” and the two laughed, and laughed and laughed.

 

By afternoon the conversation eased into a more serious tone. The poor soul in the jar was hopeful to get out and “eat a steak big as your head,” and “take my dad fishing at the lake.” At last, the little person asked, “when do we give up? what if I die in this jar?” The free person answered, “I’d rather die with you trying, than give up now.”

 

Their spirits fell with the night. The chatter and laughter subsided. A scraping sound abruptly rose from the lid. It budged. It only moved a fraction of an inch, but the fact remained that the lid did budge. Their spirits soared and when they fell into their fourth night of sleep it was with the glorious tickle of progress. The lid budged!