2: THE FIRST mystery

The children cried out eagerly: “May we open them, then?” and the mother said, “Yes, you may open the largest now.”

So the children opened the largest of their three bundles, and inside, each found a cloak -- soft, and loose, and plain, like wings -- or a shroud.

“The first Mystery,” the mother said, “is your physical body. When you put it on, it will allow you to move about in the world, and to experience all the world’s treasures and adventures.”

The children wrapped their cloaks around them, tugging here, stretching there, until all the wrinkles had been smoothed out and everything fit nice and snug. They laughed at how awkward they were in their new bodies . . . bulky, leaden, clumsy. Yet they marveled at the fit and the look and the feel. 

Some of the children found themselves tall and slender in their bodies; some were  short and round. 

Some had skin like night, some like day, and some like dusk or dawn. 

Some bodies came with sightless eyes, some with brittle bones or broken parts. 

Some were brawny and strong; others frail, fragile. 

Every one was different, tailored for the child who wore it. 

The mother watched them as they tried out their knuckles, their knees; tested taste and smell; touched for the first time, and saw, and heard with their marvelous new bodies. And, watching, she smiled, well-pleased.

At last the children turned again to their mother seated in their midst and begged, “Please, when may we open the second of our mysteries?” 

And the mother replied, “Now.”