A tiny origami box with itty-bitty origami cranes, moving boxes, sardines, and cousins...I somehow managed to cram all of these things into an essay on Hello There, Friend. Writing the piece made me miss my cousins, my grandparents, and sweat-drenched Louisiana summer days. It also made me think about what I choose to carry with me and what eventually gets discarded. Boxes of various sorts are a constant in my life. And I am not just referring to the military packing boxes that taunt me in the "office" space which will eventually get unpacked and organized. I am also talking about the boxes that keep stories, memories, and emotions tightly tucked into place.
We returned Stateside from Chile in 1970. Except for a stint in Europe (during which everything was in storage), every 12-18 months we all make a concerted effort to go through all the old packing boxes in the basement. We pull them out, open them up, have fun reminiscing over their contents... and then re-pack everything and put the boxes back where they came from.
Good luck (seriously!) setting up your home office...! <8-D
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