Boxes...I used to collect them. I had boxes of all kinds and sizes. They were cardboard mostly...corrugated and flat, large and small, rectangled and square, shipping and clothing...you name I had it. For you never knew when you were going to need a good box.
These boxes overran the attic and were probably a fire hazard. So the day came when there was a culling of the boxes. I was permitted to keep only those that were the cream of the box crop. Only those that were absolutely the best of the best were allowed to continue to stay in the attic. The rest were relegated to the curb.
Boxes...I still collect them. I have boxes of all kinds. But these boxes are very different than the cardboard boxes of the past. I don't store them in the attic of my home...I store them in a different vessel...they overrun my mind.
In these boxes I store the ghosts of the past. I keep the lids on tight, bound shut with pretty ribbons tied nice and taut and arranged into the most beautiful of bows. They are stacked nicely, these boxes...orderly and neatly all their rightful place, deep in the dark recess of my mind...never to be opened.
I don't often talk about the contents of these boxes. Ghosts are better left undisturbed, don't you agree? I mean I am going through life most of the time pretty okay. No one has had to wipe drool off my chin yet...I haven't been caught picking lint out of my belly button more than once in the last month or so. Why unleash the past if I am moving through the present with little difficulty I ask?
But there are those who disagree with me. Those who think I am not moving through the present as easily as I think I am. Those who think the contents of the boxes may have something to do with life's current events. You know the Quagmire, the Cold, the Hunger, etc.
So it has been suggested that I should gently tug on the end of the ribbons and unfurl the bows, and peel off the lids of these boxes of mine. These individuals think that I should peek inside the boxes and let the ghosts out....face them head on. Then maybe I could free up some space in my mind and my belly button.
But I am not brave enough to do this alone. Ghosts of the past are very scary.
So...I now have a bobble-head. You know, someone you pay to nod their head while you sit there and talk about your boxes and the ghosts of the past. This one isn't so much of a nodder as a 'oh my father was just like that'. I want to say, "this isn't about the box your father is in, it is about the box my father in!" But I don't...I just smile and nod and think about how much it is costing me.
Hey wait...maybe I am the bobble-head and she should be paying me!
Boxes...I think they are better left with the lids on.