Boxes

Joseph Cornell: Box with Bird's Nest and Oak Galls

And so the joyous task of packing up all my shit, sifting through the detritus of yet another failed relationship, and cramming a 2200 square foot loft's worth of furniture into a 2 bedroom shared apartment begins. And what will keep Casey sane, besides referring to herself in the third person, a healthy dose of self-deprecating wit, and that nice little bottle of pinot?? The simple fact that sometimes, a step in any direction is better than no step at all.

Today I gave away 2 of my favorite aluminum porch chairs for the simple fact that I will no longer be having a porch; I found a home for the bin of composting earthworms because, let's face it, that relationship was not the chummiest; and I boxed and sealed the very last of his stuff, conveniently stashed out of sight under the stairs for the last fours months. And though I have no idea who will actually help me lift the furniture, nor exactly how many bookshelves will have to be let go on the street corner, I am, little by little, coming to terms with the fact that I am actually leaving this space. This space in which I have spread my wings and made my own and loved so dearly much during a time when things have been so very hard. And, bit by bit, with each new box stacked on top of the next, I am becoming okay with that.

So onward brave little soldier. There comes a time for all of us when we have each in our own way–as one of my favorite writers limns–come through slaughter.