Way back in the middle of November, five days before I left America, I packed a whole load of things into a cardboard box. My desktop computer -- the main machine for work, writing and communication -- was wrapped in extra clothing, along with a monitor and keyboard and all those other things you don't realise you need until you don't have them. I grabbed so many things that the box weighed almost 80 pounds, so I reinforced it with a second box.
This magnificent brown object was placed in the back of the car and Sarah and I set forth to a Polish parcel service which has an office in Philadelphia. The online price quote was too good to be true, and the woman in the office quoted me $103 dollars, just as the web site had predicted. "Where will it go?" I asked; an odd question to ask an employee of a parcel service, and she felt obliged to inform me that Poland is not a third world country. To rewind a moment, I had investigated shipping freight by air, which is very expensive. I investigated shipping by sea, where the shipping companies will abandon your belongings at a sea port or an airport -- your choice. Now I was sending this Cardboard American Life to, well, Poland. I thought it worth asking where it would end up. "We will send to the address on the box," she said. That address was Frank's house, so I gave her $103 dollars and genuinely believed I would never see me bits and bobs again. Yesterday the doorbell rang and a young thin Eastern European man with a bald head and a white van told me I had a parcel from Poland. My box. The box I last saw when Sarah and I drove into Philadelphia and dropped it off. I don't care about the contents. Not really. All I cared about back in November was Tyson and getting him safely to Milan airport, but now I am filled with a sad joy at seeing the cardboard box that I bought at U-Haul out near Charlie and Cecily's house. I remember dragging this heavy brown object as being one of the last things that Sarah and I did together. We went to McDonalds on the way back. We had a day out. The box has made me sad all over again. I miss her. The contents do not make me sad. The object does. [ps...Have you tried the Armchair Detective Challenge yet?]
2 Comments
Jean
15/1/2014 05:59:46
I'm sorry you are missing Sarah. These transitional times in life can be so hard -- one day you are exhilarated and excited, the next sad and fearful. But you are doing it the right way by making this transition an adventure, and tomorrow (or the next day) you will feel excited again. Good luck!
Reply
Leave a Reply. |
AuthorSlovenia, writing, other things Archives
February 2019
Categories
All
|