If you've ever changed jobs, you used one of them to bring your personal belongings home. If you've ever moved, you've probably used lots of them. We use them to store stuff, to mail stuff, and to hide stuff. And cats seem to prefer them over soft cushiony beds made specifically for cats. At least my cat does. I wonder if Robert Gair, a printer from Brooklyn, had any idea how much society would come to depend upon cardboard boxes when he invented them in the 1800s? They are remarkably flimsy, but unless they are flooded or abused in some fashion, they stand the test of time. And boy can they evoke strong emotions in me.
I have vivid memories of cleaning out my Dad's things shortly after he died and placing them in cardboard boxes. Same goes for my grandmother's things. I still have a couple of cardboard boxes that contain the contents of my desk at various different places of employment. I have another cardboard box full of stuff from college. Another full of audio tapes. Another filled to the brim with cards and letters.
I know where most of them are and every time I open one of them, it's like opening a time capsule. Old memories come flooding back. Sometimes it's a little more than I can take. Other times, it's a perfect way to complement a day.
