today was a relatively nonproductive day; off in a search for pink bunny shoelaces for my chucks i suddently decide to unearth my old glitter-decorated industrial-sized Tide detergent powder memory box (no plain old shoebox for me, darlings, my life will not fit in there). And envelopes and envelopes rain on me. everytime i open the box i think i know what's inside and always get surprised by my memories.
graduation pictures (bad hair and huge smiles) and beach pictures, tickets and stamps and playbills, letters from headhunters and acceptance letters from law school, medical school, business school, ribbons from parties long forgotten, a birthday card from when i was one year old. i added cards and pictures and programs that had been lying around in my room, stuffed in a foam envelope from the us postal office. the tide box is filled to the brim now; soon i'll have to haunt the laundry shop for a new one. sometimes it makes me want to cry, because i want to be the girl i was then. look at that smile, that complete and utter confidence in the world. the knowledge that god is paving the streets with gold for her.
(that girl had no clue how many 36-hour duty days awaited her).
sometimes i think ive lived too much, but the tide box always tells me: you havent even begun.
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eta: disappointments! no one carries king-size tide boxes anymore! all they have are very sad little boxes because no one uses detergent powder anymore.
\its all about the liquid.\
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1 comment:
aww. this post sounds so sad..or at least makes me sad. it sounds like your living the life i see myself living in a few years...getting into med sounds so much more luxurious than what it really is...
but youre right, its just the beginning! best of luck!
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