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BOXES AND MEMORIES
I sat on the porch going through them.
My boxes used to move me from one place to another.
I opened the first one and to my surprise were my pictures from the Army. Remembering the times like they were yesterday.
The memories came back and with tears flowing down my face I got the good and the bad.
The second one to my surprise was full of old letters, IM’s and emails from my ex-boyfriend with whom I share a child. I read through them on the porch amidst that hot summer afternoon, combing through each one trying to find the meaning to the end, however finding nothing but heartache and longing for a past love that will remain just that, in the past.
Opening the third box I screamed as a spider run from it. Catching my breath and getting my heart to beat again I came across my memoirs, my book lay bonded and barely published for a moment. The poems of a child and her tears on paper in books, decades of work wasted, yet saved. Experiences better left for the books than for me to have to relive again.
Fourth and final box was somewhat of a surprise, but it was there. Pictures of my father and me, him in his tux and I in a flowing white dress going to a Masonic Scholarship banquet to which my father was so proud of his “little girl” for accomplishing the feat of a good education. It made me long for his presence now as I had planned to wear another dress soon, but he would not be there.
As I finished my task of emptying boxes, tears ran down my face again. Time stood at its edge and my life responded in ah at the situation. Love had been brought my way with a strong family and good friends who love me. As I emptied these boxes and reminisced over these memories I realized there were more memories to make, and soon more boxes to pack and unpack.
