The last box

Small goodbyes and gentle lessons

From the beginning I sensed we didn’t make enough boxes. I felt the things we decided to keep for the remaining six months might be too many. Every remaining jacket left a quiet heaviness on my tongue. “Shouldn’t we box these as well?” no, we might need them. Or “I will wear it soon”. (No, you won’t.)

This move is like a gentle procession of all my belongings, slowly making their way from me. A soft invitation to find them again on the other side, to finish this chapter. Each item carries a memory, a quiet echo of who I was in that moment. And still the journey continues.

I’ve only just picked a flight date, but this process has stretched on quietly for years, beginning before I even noticed. Call it the universe’s plan, or perhaps my own hesitation to be here. Somehow the universe decided I would become intimately acquainted with thousands of boxes, and in its own patient way, teach me the rhythm of living and learning.

Picture from my sketchbook

In the midst of tender goodbyes to friends, we now find ourselves seeking new boxes. The kitchen cupboards will visit the carpet once again. And yes, there is a quiet reminder that I was right when I asked the first time. When our eyes meet at the documents closet, there is a shared pause, a mixture of exhaustion and humility. Moving store to store for boxes no longer hold surprise.

Some moments in life have the power to test our patience and uncover parts of ourselves we rarely see. Moving is one of them. There are moments of laughter and warmth, yet if someone asks how it went, I may simply smile in quiet reflection. My eyes seek stillness, a gentle darkness, something beyond the tape and boxes. A moment to pause, to breathe, to rest in the simplicity of being.

I long for peace and darkness too, for solitude among the trees and the quiet earth. But it waits, patient, until the last box is packed and closed.

Until then, I move slowly, deliberately, finding small moments of calm between the chaos. As Thich Nhat Hanh reminds us “smile, breathe, and go slowly”. and so I do, even here, among the boxes, carrying a quiet hope that stillness will find me soon.

In the midsts of boxes and papers