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Originally uploaded by PackRatty McRatterson
Two weeks ago, my husband and I finally settled into our new place. All the things we need were finally unpacked, and it was time to banish empty boxes. In the process, I told him to break this box down, and then I started crying.
This was the last box of my things I packed when I moved out of my mom's house at eighteen. It is the perfect size for the two handfuls of tiny things I am always left with at the end of packing.
Today is my 28th birthday. Looking at the photo of that box, I'm getting all misty again. I am thinking of me at that age, how it felt to close that last, little box. I'm thinking of all the pain I didn't know was coming, at all the joy I didn't know I'd be rewarded with, in time. Ten years I traveled with this thing. Wow.
Next time we move, I will end up with a small pile of things with no home, small things I don't want to put in a huge box, and I know I will go looking for this one. I just know it. But it will be OK.
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