A friend of mine who recently moved posted the following on Facebook: “Does anyone need boxes? We have many!”

The last pile of boxes waiting to move from our Bagabag house 2 years ago. Those same boxes have assisted in 2 moves since then. They now rest quietly in our upper cupboards. (Well, except for the one that got its big break as a Minecraft creeper head…)

What a wonderful status message! I actually can’t remember the last time we got rid of our moving boxes. To think of reaching a point where one doesn’t anticipate needing them in the foreseeable future… well, I think I’ll have to put that on my bucket list!

But (you may say), boxes are a fairly available commodity — why clutter up one’s home with them, no matter how soon the next move is? Well. I have two words for that. Pack. Rat. Yep, as much as I dream of having a boxless house someday (imagine actually being able to store linens in the upper cupboards!), the truth is we do get attached to our boxes!

We even kept a box once just because of the message on the outside. This was years ago. (25, to be exact.) We received a wedding present in the mail in a worn box subtly tatooed with the marks of a past life. Scrawled in ballpoint ink across one side were the words “ugly plastic wreath”. The backstory of that box — released at long last from years of unwanted-Christmas-deco bondage — so delighted us that we kept the poor thing long after the cheeses it conveyed were consumed.

Boxes. Such a part of our transient lifestyle. But someday I’m gonna ditch ’em all!

Q: What are your best “box” memories?