Boxes.

Every where I look I see boxes. Last week I finally packed and stored away 3 boxes of baby clothes. I folded each piece and wondered if they would be used any time soon. For bit I thought about just giving them away, but I couldn't part with them. Too precious.

And there is still two more little boxes sitting in the dining room with the odds n' ends from her time here that I just don't know what to do with. So, they continue to sit there.

On the other side of the room are two boxes full of computer stuff. Two weeks ago, I had sorted and put all that stuff away in our spare bedroom... and now they are down here again. I am stubbornly refusing to bring them up.

There are more boxes overflowing from my living room garbage from the computer project that has taken place. Again, I am being stubborn about that too.

Then there is this box - it's called an iPhone. It rings all the time and I don't go anywhere without it. I am currently considering buying one for my husband so that he can have a box that rings, texts, searches the WWW, and all that fun stuff. My sister wants to get one too. What did we do without such boxes with all the gadgets?

Rick and I are tossing around the idea of buying a REALLY big, fancy box with windows and doors and all that stuff. Some people call it a house. This Friday I will be looking around at a few of my favorite (at least, favorite from the outside). The thought of more space sounds good, but when I look around our current "box", I wonder how I would find time to clean anything bigger. This seems challenging enough.

Our box that holds the mail always has the flap open when I come home. Sometimes there is something in it, and sometimes there isn't. I wonder if someone likes to open it while we are gone and that makes me worried. I worry about a lot sometimes.

I wish I had a box for all the emotions from the last six months of my life. I don't have a box for them - if I did, I would sort them out and store them away. Pretend they aren't around. Perhaps that's what I have done. One box would be labeled: memories of being a Mama for three months. The other one would hold the sorrow and grief from that ending so abruptly and painfully. I would have so many boxes. But, instead, I leave all the emotions lying around and sometimes I look them in the eye and deal with them, and other times I walk around them and try not to notice.

My Mother-in-Law is recovering from surgery and since she can't drive, she has generously lent the fancy box-on-wheels she owns to me. It has been SOOOO nice to have this kind of a box all to myself. I can see myself getting far too used to that. Yesterday, I drove all over town looking at the houses around here. Today, I ran errands in Potsdam.

One of the errands was to the Orthodontist. They handed me a little box with retainers in them. Ouch. The Doctor and his assistants all looked at me when I put them on and cringed. "That's gonna hurt", they said. I know. It's been seven years since I wore them. Ouch is right.

Those are my boxes.