Got a box?
I do. It’s small, and square, and tidy. I keep all of my belongings in it (which are few), carry it with me everywhere (not very far), and usually keep it closed (with some packing tape and a few staples). Inside it, there are some trinkets I carry, bright and shiny mementos of past experiences, and under them, the rest of my baggage. It’s a simple, brown, plain, normal, everyday-kind-of box.
But when I drop my box, sometimes its flaps will open, and everything tumbles into sight. Over the playful toys will slide all of my backwards logic. The buried things I pack away into neat piles. Memories sealed into envelopes and never sent. And often, deadly depressions, tamped into the bottom corners of my box, will spill over the rest, cover everything in a black sludge, and hide the small things that were at the top.
When this happens, I have to stoop down and sit my box back upright again- try to wipe the black stuff off the rest, and expose the painted colors and light knickknacks that normally make a wonderful jingle when they bounce and clatter. Sometimes, they can’t be saved, and I must throw them away, try to ignore the dull silence and empty space they leave. But no matter what gets thrown out, I always keep my black mud. After rooting around an alley, there is usually a jar or basket or cup I can fill back up with the sludge, weigh down with the rest of the box’s contents, and continue to carry wherever I go. It’s not that heavy, after all. And the new trinkets I get will make it seem lighter and happier.
Do you have a box? What do you keep in it? Is your sludge blacker than mine?
Are you even able to carry your box anymore?
Because I bet it’s getting pretty heavy.
Leave a Reply