Dusty boxes

And the time came when the risk to remain tight in a bud was more painful than the risk it took to blossom.-Anais Nin

I’m at my new house.  I’m settled in, I’ve unpacked the necessities, I’ve decorated, I’ve placed everything where it needs to go except myself.  I’m not sure where I fit here. 

I’ve found a place to land and I’ve jumped off the cliff but I’m still freefalling in a sense.  I’m in-between.

I’ve left a world of sadness and anger and unrest and hurt for a world of sadness, anger, unrest and hurt but freedom.  I don’t doubt my decision, not for even a second, but I’m just not sure where to go.  I know I will not go back to sleep.  I won’t become bitter or hateful or alone or shut off.  I’m just not entirely sure I know where to unpack a few of things I brought with me to my new place.  Where it fits in this new life, alone.

For instance, should I put all of the hope and the plans that we had as a married couple on a shelf in my new sunroom?  It doesn’t really look good there, but the front closet is already full to the brim of all of the longings and curiosity of what we’d become together in our old age.  Hell, I can’t even open the door without that toppling over and nearly crushing me.  And I had tried to hide all of the ugly anger and sadness over not being noticed on a low shelf in the dining room, but I swear it still catches my eye and completely clashes with my decorating theme in there.  Not to mention the boxes and boxes of hopes for more children, understanding, love piling up in my living room.  I just have all of this extra junk lying around that I can’t toss out because it’s apart of me.  I’m sentimental to these hole fillers, darn it.

One afternoon, very soon, I’m going to eventually take a huge box, one from my move, and put them inside it.  I will pack away the resentment, the longing for affection, the energy spent and wrap it in newspaper and haul it down to the Salvation Army.  Maybe they’d let me trade in some of this for an open heart and self discovery.  Though I don’t know why someone would leave those behind.  Then again, why have I?



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