We've packed up and travelled boxes nine times since the day we spoke vows. In two months more, it will make ten.
We've bundled up the treasures and bubble wrapped the necessities. We've grown to know the things good for the keeping and learned the things best thrown away. We've figured out it's tragedy to carry the worthless from destination to destination, with never letting it go.
Those things that make deep closets clutter and junk drawers overfill? They're needing to be purged and somehow the packing of the boxes is the catalyst for the sorting through it all.
The husband would like to see fewer boxes stacked up on moving day, but I know that keepsakes stored in cardboard boxes have invisible roots that keep me grounded.
There's the jewelry box that has survived the purge nine times. The one with a missing knob. It was gifted by a parent whose own birthday box was once shattered, the spinning ballerina snapped right off. Within, the earrings, the adjustable rings, the heart-shaped lockets of girlhood. And when daughters open drawers and try on bracelets and butterfly brooches, it takes me right back to the glamour those pieces once brought.
I cringe now to think of the years when I kept that jewelry box hidden inside a box, ashamed of its scratched edges and lost brass knob. I wanted a box that was fashionable, that was straight out of a catalogue to hold glistening necklaces and anniversary diamonds.
In two months, when cardboard boxes are packed, that age-worn jewelry box will make its way into one. Upon arrival at a new destination, it will be unpacked and placed special.
Sometimes the scratched and the broken are the things that need to be held onto, put on display, and not tossed away.
Inspired by Amber Haines encouraging an Abstraction on the Box