A Life in a Cardboard Box

Image borrowed from Bing

A Life in a Cardboard Box


The skinny, chain smoking man they called 'The Grim Reaper' looked to be a tabloid reading finger pointing guy - at first glance.

His job at the old folks home was to grab a cardboard box, cram the dead person's possessions into it and tape it tight. He got great delight in putting the lid on it, there, job well done. Then he'd pick out a red marker and write the dead person's name on it. Occasionally, he'd write next to the name the one thing we all fear, in our two a.m. moments - No known relatives. The boxes went to charity stores and someone could buy an old life for a handful of dollars.

The skinny, chain smoking man handled these possessions with care if you looked closely at what he was doing. He folded handkerchiefs and tapped the tobacco from pipes before placing items in the box. He piled photographs together and tried to neaten out the curling corners.

He smiled briefly if he found a love letter or two in the box, he loved the way the past rose up like a spell from these letters and would spend a moment trying to reconcile the old person who had vacated the nursing home bed and this world permanently with the phrases in the letters -

To my darling....I wait for your reply....you are never far from my mind.....

Time lines didn't seem to matter to the skinny, chain smoking guy.

He taped the boxes shut and for the ones who were called 'oh my darling' even once in their lifetimes, he felt a beautiful envy for them.

They had been loved.


Brigid O'Connor

Posted over on her site Sort of Writing
Listed as #7 over on Magpie Tales 70