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If you've ever moved more than once, you probably know what I mean by the title. There are some boxes that have moved with me since I was first on my own at 18. I have stories, sheet music from choir, play programs, nik-naks etc. All of which seem too precious to part with. After 40+ years of life, everytime I move, I collect and keep more boxes that tell my life's story.... Awards from work, cards from students and of course my own child. I even have notes from my best friends in junior high and high school reminding me of hopes and dreams I've let fall by the wayside, or the silly boys we hoped would ask us to the dance the following weekend. Then there are the boxes and boxes of pictures I can't seem to thin out. There's the photo of my grandma and Ashlie cooking when she was just a wee one, or the one where both Ashlie and my dad are asleep in the recliner together; my mom getting her head shaved before chemo took it away for her; family and friends that are no longer in my life, but that were such an important part of it, they'll stay in a box for me to go through the next time I move.
My husband accuses me of hoarding, but I strongly disagree. There are just some memories in my life that I need reminded of now and then. Someday when my daughter goes through my stuff, I'm sure she'll wonder why on earth I've kept some of the stuff I have, but I'm also sure she'll see a story that is my life; the happy times, the hard times and everything in between. I think it would be safe to say that in my boxes is the story of my life. Paraphrased of course. I expect that the next time I move (Lord willing it will be many years down the road), there will be more boxes that never need to be unpacked, they're just recent memories, there for when I forget who I was and who I am.
So, if you have a life story as told by boxes, please share. I know I am not the only one....
Until next time,
Lori
