About putting a box in the recycle bin...

March 9th, 2021
I will never forget how worried and upset we were, sitting in front of the post office waiting for this particular box.  COVID was rampant. And the postal service, like everyone and everything, was struggling to keep going amid the chaos and craziness.  There were horror stories about packages taking weeks to arrive, or disappearing altogether.  

Our tracking number for this little carton said that it hadn't left the hub in Cleveland.  The box could still be sitting in a cold cargo warehouse at an airport in Ohio?!  The clerk at the window inside looked at all the information she had, and shook her head. We trudged back to the car to wait for the truck to bring the airport freight for the day.  

It was dark, chilly, misting rain with a cold breeze.  The flag on the pole in front of the building was whipping around. We turned on the car and ran the heater, compulsively hitting Refresh on the tracking information. The moments dragged past. No new entries.  No updates.  All of a sudden, the clerk burst out of the doors clutching it.  When Gloria settled it on her lap, there were faint little bird sounds.

All 10 of them survived the ordeal.  

Fast-forward a year and a half.  I have had the box perching on a pile in my tiny, crowded office all this time.  It's an unusual shape--interesting to look at, with its symmetrical air holes, cantilevered sides, tight-fitting lid and bright labels.  And poignant to think all 10 of them were crammed into it, huddled next to a hand warmer, being tossed around as baggage.  A symbol of survival? An artifact that stands for epic journeys, most of which we don't ask for and only if we are lucky manage to navigate? A startling reminder of how much we have grown and changed?! 

  

COVID is still with us, but it has subsided.  They all grew up, moved defiantly out of the bathroom, outgrew the house, and took the chicken yard by storm.  Frankie and Flo-Moe, Calamity and Peaches, Mildred and XBeak, Quon and Nora, Buffy and Katniss.  They have been a TON of work and worry. And boundless joy.  They are our friends.  Today.  In this moment.  Out in the yard milling around hoping for treats which I generally provide after work.  

I think it's okay to recycle the box.