Friday, August 12, 2011

A Box Talks

Hello. I am Baylor. Baylor U-Haul. I am a box, just in case you couldn't tell.


I am tired.... so very tired. I have been doing my job for a long time, and I've been doing it well. If you read on, I'll tell you my story and you'll understand.

I was born in the southeast. Made from pulp wood of pine trees and some recycled cardboard and paper. I was stamped out of a huge roll of corrugated paper. I went through the printer. That was where I got my identity as a U-Haul. I joined the rest of the U-Haul clan. We were bundled together and shipped to our first home, the U-Haul store in South Carolina. I am proud to be a U-Haul. There are many in our family and we can be found living in many places. I stand tall and proud because I belong. I belong to a huge family. One day I discovered that I was going to get a job. This would be my first job. I was taken away with some of my brothers and sisters and we were put to work. It is fulfilling to be working. I was opened up, taped together (that tickles a bit) and filled with belongings. My job was to protect those belongings. I was hoisted and jostled and lugged from here to there. One of the belongings was in an awkward position. At first it was just a bit irritating, but it rubbed and poked and dented me a bit. I traveled in the back of a truck from my first home in South Carolina to a place called Colorado. I can't tell you too much about the trip because it was dark in the back of the truck and I couldn't see much. But, I was with my brothers and sisters and we quietly talked; recalling our experiences, discussing our contents and dreaming about the future. When we arrived in the place called Colorado we were taken to different rooms. Some of my brothers and sisters went to a place called storage. They didn't have much of a job. They just had to sit on a shelf holding the belongings. I was emptied. That was a deflating experience. No more belongings to protect. My tape was ripped off. Ouch! That hurt. It took some of my sensitive skin with it. I was stacked with some other boxes; strangers from the Lowe's family and some from the Home Depot family. We waited together, shivering through the cold nights in a place called garage. 
Several months later we were picked up, as a group, tossed in the back of the pickup and went for a ride. You won't believe this, but we were back in SC where we started from. I enjoyed the feel of the humidity, even though I felt a bit sodden. I was taped together again. I felt whole! Belongings were once again put in me and I was on another trip to that place called Colorado. 
Upon our arrival my belongings were removed, leaving me with that empty feeling. Again, my tape was ripped off and I was flattened. 
I found out I had another moving job later that year. This time I was loaned to a house nearby. I carried their belongings safely to a new location and again I was flattened and returned to my Colorado home. A few months after that I was taken to yet another Colorado home to move Mr. Dad's things. This move was different because the truck time was so short. I was filled and emptied, and filled and emptied several times. All of that moving around, being stacked and sorted, being picked up and pushed around left me a bit tattered, but I still proudly carried belongings safely from one place to another. That's my job and I'm proud to do it. 
So, now, I've brought you up to the present. I have been pressed back into service. Once again I was opened and taped. I'm not as strong as I used to be. I need a bit more tape to support my weakened joints. I still stand proud, but I pooch out on the sides a bit. I have a few small tears and crumpled flaps and corners. But I am back, doing what I was born to do. Over the past week I have made a number of trips from one home to another. I am filled with belongings and emptied. Then I make the trek back to the place where I get filled with belongings again... and then emptied. It is satisfying to be doing a job and doing it well. I am probably one of the older boxes on the job, but I can still keep up with the younger guys. I have a history and can proudly recall the jobs I have completed satisfactorily. I don't know how many more jobs I can fulfill. There will come a time when I can no longer work. Perhaps my seams will become so weakened from tape being removed numerous times, or maybe one of my flaps will tear off, or, I shudder at the thought, what if a side seam rips, spilling my contents on the ground? But, that is then and this is now. I'm just about to head out the door, back into the truck and down to the other house to get loaded again. Life is good!

4 comments:

  1. I will never look at a box the same again. Cute.

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  2. You are, indeed, a heroic box!

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  3. Very very lovely story about the carton box!

    Thanks and i hope you have a good weekend!
    Leontien

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  4. Wow. I'm feeling kind of guilty for all the years I've used and abused and taken advantage of the usefulness of cardboard boxes.
    Who knew they had feelings and memories. *sinking my head in shame*

    ~Lisa

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