This my entry for this week's Theme Thursday for "box." It’s a repost from an earlier date, which I don’t often do. But it perfectly targets this week’s theme, and I just can’t get past it to another inspiration. So if you’ve read it before, my apologies.
The Box
It was filled with fun and fantasies, winter dreams and summer drives, passion and love. Postcards and coasters. Matchbooks and guide books. Ticket stubs and Playbills. Geegaws and tschotches. Baubles and bangles. Memories for the inevitable day when memory fails.
One day, the memories came to an end, and the box was left to languish. Instead of gathering life and love, it gathered nothing but dust and spider webs. But still it waited, because… well, you never know.
As will happen as time goes by and lives move on, the day came when there was nothing left to wait for. The box no longer held happy recollections. Instead, it held meaningless collections for the garbage truck.
And so off it went, its memories carried to the landfill to decay with the rest of life’s cast-offs.
But perhaps, when memory is gone, wisps from the box will drift into the cloudy grey heads of those rocking on porches far apart, and they will remember.
After all is said and done, the most meaningful memories are in our minds, aren't they?
ReplyDeleteVery good, always like a mysterious looking box.
ReplyDeleteThat was so touching...old boxes do hold all kinds of memories sweet and sad!
ReplyDeletesmiles. funny thing about boxes, they dont get to choose what goes inside, we do. funny thing about ourselves, no one gets to choose what goes inside except ourselves.
ReplyDeleteI love memories and boxes of memories! Which is why I need a big dumpster. Nice TT!
ReplyDelete"Memories for the inevitable day when memory fails." What a marvelous line!
ReplyDeleteDon't take this the wrong way PLEASE...
ReplyDeleteBut I loved your box!
Your new Avatar looks Great!
See you tomorrow?
G
inspirational box story,
ReplyDeleteHappy Thursday!
Beautiful words on boxes. Excellently done.
ReplyDeletebeautiful post but it filled me with the kind of bittersweet sadness that shel's the giving tree does whenever i read that.
ReplyDeletethanks for dropping in at the mouse. and how wonderful that you live so close to hancock shaker village - for the 16 yrs i lived in connecticut i tried to get up there at least 2 different seasons a year....it is a place if find so invigorating with it's peaceful serenity. since moving to cleveland oh so many years ago now i've only been back once, but i return often in my mind.....
That was a little bit sad, actually. You know that writing is good when it can move you!
ReplyDeletei think the next time i'm at my parents' house, i need to pull down the old box i have stashed at the top of my closet and go through it. it's always fun going through the old memories and stuff i saved
ReplyDeleteThings can have so much meaning for one and just be junk to anyone else. Very sad.
ReplyDeleteFirst of all, thank you for stopping by. That was so kind.
ReplyDeleteThis story is so poignant. Personally, a pretty wood box with things like that inside would never get thrown out. It is the precious trinkets of someone, most likely a child. It reminds me of The Littlest Angel. Ugh-sad.
But well written and emotional!
poignant
ReplyDeleteJanice: That is true, unless the mind deserts us. As people live longer, it seems more and more suffer from this eventuality. Thanks for visiting!
ReplyDeleteMik: Me too!
Jana: Thank you. I felt sadness in it too.
Brian: I totally agree.
Kathy: I seldom throw mine away. So you can just picture my basement.
Mama Zen: Thank you!
G-Man: Thank you! But she is an Avatar? Should I be scared? I was a little worried when I noticed she was showing up all the time in Mirrorland…
Ji, Anthony: Thank you for your kind words.
Mouse: I agree. Hancock Shaker Village has a special serenity about it. I like to go when they show the baby animals every summer.
Otin: Thank you. I’m happy when readers feel the emotion that was behind the words.
Jaime: Oh, for sure. I bet there’s some cool stuff in that box. And I love that you refer to the closet at your parent’s house as “my closet.”
Lady Cat: Absolutely right.
Aspiemom: The box in my post contained tokens of memories accumulated during a long marriage, meaningless to anyone but those who’d lived it. My husband and I bought a condo from an estate, and it was not only furnished, the debris of deceased’s life was still in it. We asked the woman’s adult children if they wanted the personal stuff. They said that they had already gone through it all, and taken everything they wanted. We were astonished at what they left behind.
That was my inspiration for the story.
Lettuce: Thank
Lettuce: Thank you for visiting and for your comment.
Bittersweet. Time stops for no one and we eventually are forgotten. I think that is a strong part of what attracts people to stores and markets that house relics from our past. We don't want to forget but we do, nevertheless.
ReplyDelete