When we prepare to move house, we fill up boxes. Stuff that sometimes we didn’t even know we had that is, however, too valuable to throw away. We place things in boxes often for temporary storage. To transfer them somewhere else. To keepsake them still.
We position things in boxes even to just organize our rooms. But whatever is placed inside is something we hold dear, objects that are tied to sentiments, events, and people, but mostly memories. It is the reminiscence of how we felt when we were first given that particular item, flower, stuffed toy, photo, souvenir, ticket, letter, post-it, or whatever it is we cherish so much.
It’s the feeling we try to hold on to. Because that is what is so hard to accept letting go of. The emotion. That sense of happiness that overwhelmed us during the presence of the now-boxed item.
We fill our lives with boxes because, unfortunately, we cannot do so in our minds. The chaos in our heads often breaks relationships out of exaggerated minute disagreements. Our tolerance diminishes as we grow older and we prefer to fill up boxes, no matter how big or small, and move on. Or at least convince ourselves to do so. To rediscover our own self, to build our strength again in the hope that the next box we will fill will be only to be moved somewhere better to be reopened.