Boxes

I have packed and unpacked more boxes than I can remember. In those boxes, I have carried all sorts of things -- needed or not -- from one place to the next. The packing and unpacking have made the journey difficult. They have filled the numerous leavings with burdensome anxiety.

Will the boxes all get packed? Will there be enough boxes? Will the boxes all fit in the truck? Where will they all go when the truck needs to be unloaded? How many will remain unpacked, stacked up, sealing away trinkets and treasures, memories, hurts, pains, sorrows, stuff -- needed or not for the coming resting place, needed or not for the on-going journey?

What is it that drives me to pack it all up, carry it all with, keep it all present -- rather than leave most of it in the past or simply let it go?

If more things -- tangible or emotional -- were either discarded or given away -- would the possibilities of the road overcome the pitfalls?

If there was less, would the road become more?