One Box

A PS (in advance):

I wrote this before the fires started in the entire State of California. I am weirdly psychic like that..it’s particularly relevant now.

I woke up this morning and for some reason I was thinking of finally getting rid of the textbook I had used for my Interpersonal Communication class in college. I never got rid of it. In my entire post-college life, throughout my many moves, city to city, across country, even internationally, I neither gave it away nor threw it away. Now it’s so old it would be useful to no one.

This led me to thinking about moving (ugh) because eventually we will move again (not anytime soon, though). Then I thought of all the things I would need to give to Goodwill, throw away or pack if and when we move. I thought about the “Campfire” Fire of 2018 and how people didn’t even have the chance to pack anything, let alone one entire box. Today, safe from the fires and years after the fire experience, I wondered: if I could take only one box with me, just one box, what would be in it?

I thought about the obvious, because I had learned the essentials from the Camp Fire in 2018. At the time we didn’t end up having to evacuate, but we were on alert to do so. During the fire, I prepared, just to be less freaked out. Wedding certificate, birth certificate, because that’s what the internet told me to bring. The internet Gods assured me those were important because it would make life easier after the fact of an evacuation. Great, that’s easy and those two pieces of paper take almost zero room. I thought about my photo album from my wedding, and thought, well, I’ve been married for 21 years, and I attended my own wedding, so I don’t really need to bring that. It’s in me, just like the textbook. I don’t have to bring the album, physically, with me. The advice for people in an evacuation is to bring those things I’ve already named: birth and marriage certificates. Another tip, which I really appreciated, is to bring something that will be comforting to you in the days to come, because things will be stressful. Those were the things I packed, and today I am, again, trying to get it all down to one box. (Just in my head though, I don’t think I’m actually going to do it. It’s a mental exercise).

For this morning’s imaginary one-box reason, I don’t know if it’s a fire I’m fleeing or something else. It feels more meaning-of-life-ish. Like, “Hey, kid, get it all down to one box.”

So that’s where I’m starting. The comfortable sweatshirt which would, for sure, one hundred percent go with me in the event of an evacuation for a fire or anything else. It’s thick, cozy and amazingly warm and soft. I bought it as a gift for myself, roughly $80 dollars, and it’s the most money I have ever spent on myself for a single item of clothing. It was worth it. I have spent much more on other things, of course, houses, cars, and trips to places, but the O’Neill sweatshirt was the first time I ever researched exactly what I wanted, bit the bullet and bought it. I never looked back, best item of clothing I have ever, and I do mean ever purchased. Three years ago, when we had to pack to evacuate, I knew I was taking that sweatshirt with me.

I’ve just realized I lied by accident when I claimed it was the most expensive thing. My wedding dress was the most expensive. I bought a nice suit once, too. Okay, so the O’Neill sweatshirt was the third most expensive clothing, but my favorite. The sweat shirt. If I packed it in this one box it would take up all the room in the box because it’s that cushy and cozy. I’ll just have to wear it. However, since it’s 100 degrees out today and I’m not actually going anywhere, I don’t have to worry about the details that much and, fortunately, I won’t have to wear it. Phew!

Likewise, because of my health conditions, I take so many pills that I have an entire bureau drawer of them. The pills would take up a huge percentage of the box, so I’ll take just my one week pill-minder instead. This morning even thinking about my drawer-o-pills annoyed me, so I want to go back to the existential challenge of packing my one box because right now, all it has in it is my birth certificate and my marriage license.

            So here I am, writing and typing and I just had another seizure. It had been ages since I had my last one, four months ago in fact, on March 26. There was a time in my life when I was having two seizures a month until my meds were figured out! (That and I had a law suit and left a crappy job. Stress contributes greatly to seizures). Four months without a single seizure had been a welcome respite. My seizures are boring. I have “partial epilepsy,” which means that when I have one, it’s really not very exciting to look at, no “Grey’s Anatomy” level entertainment. My seizures are not “Steel Magnolia” flopping style, that’s for sure. Mine just look like I’m spacing out (I’ve been told), and to the uninitiated you might not even know that I’m actually having a seizure right then in front of your very eyes. For me, a seizure feels like déjà vu, the world caving in, time swirling into itself in a spirograph design. My anti-seizure pills aren’t due until 8:00 am, but I guess they didn’t work quite long enough this time because it’s only 7:30 am. Oh, well.

So now I haven’t even had breakfast, time caved in, and I’ve just had the first seizure I’ve had in four months. I haven’t had time to pack my one and only existential meaning-of-life box, either. At least I’ve had coffee. I’ll have to pack my box later, after breakfast and probably after my necessary post-seizure nap. Here’s my usual seizure routine: déjà vu feeling, time caves in, see a spirograph drawing in my head, go to sleep right after. Packing the box can wait. We now pause for a word from our sponsors…which is really just a post-seizure nap…

I’m back. One box. I was curious about it, what I would do if I actually pack it, not just imagine it? When you think about it—when I think about it—what do I actually need? What do you actually need? During the fire, when we were on alert to evacuate, I prepared a suitcase in case we ended up having to leave. Fortunately, we didn’t. That evacuation packing turned into an exercise in gratitude. I quickly realized that time and space were limited, so I ended up taking pictures of things I value, even pictures of pictures: a framed picture of Grandma lifting weights and smiling. My Mother-and Father-in law, my Mom and my Stepdad, Niels. My favorite pic of my brother and me, smiling and still blonde-headed when we were little kids. (I’m grey-headed now). Our dining room table is definitely too big to fit in a car, so I better say goodbye to that. As I walked around, I looked at all of those things that make our house our home. The china cabinet (we don’t actually keep china in it). Couches. (Again, not fitting in a trunk or the back seat of the escape car).

When it comes down to it, I’m not sure I need anything but some changes of clothes, my driver’s license (just for ID, because I don’t drive), my passport, money of course, phone and charger. I could bring my laptop, too, which makes a hell of a lot of sense. My husband. Our cat. When I packed for the fire evacuation and not today’s existential exploration, I had my bathing suit in there, too, not because I love my bathing suit, but because I would definitely rather have my bathing suit than shop for one. (Bathing suit shopping is an ordeal that takes hours and I avoid it if at all possible). I want my journal, my iPod and my favorite pen. Today, I think I’ll consider further what else might go in my existential/practical box. I’m quite sure it won’t include my 26-year-old Interpersonal Communication textbook from college.