In the Land of Cardboard Boxes
Boxes, boxes everywhere. That is much of my life these days. As D Day approaches in our move south, I find that more of our possessions than not are wrapped, bubbled and labelled.
I remember when Stirling and Alex were wee ones and Ken worked for a furniture retailer. In those days, we also often found ourselves surrounded by boxes, but for different reasons.
As everybody knows, for small children the box is as intriguing as the gift at birthday or holiday time. On many occasions, Ken would cart home refrigerator or television boxes and they became places to build magical fantasies and family memories. In fact, for Alex's seventh birthday we even constructed an eight-foot tall ship hull to grace the front yard and introduce the party's pirate theme.
These days, it is Smokey who has made empty boxes into his playground. Yesterday, when I assembled and stacked 50-plus empty boxes to expedite the moving process, Smokey was in kitty heaven, leaping and tumbling from one box to the next. It provided a much needed light-hearted moment at an otherwise hectic time.
Until the next time I can report back from the moving circus . . .
