Boxes

It is pretty weird putting your whole life into boxes and entrusting it to the Post Office. I have the utmost faith in Japan Post, but I felt a little nervous remembering how two years ago, when I was the PO sending off a package, one postal employee smiled brightly and told me that I really shouldn't use surface mail as Russian sailors were likely to rip open my package and steal everything inside. Well, if the Russian sailors do get their theiving hands on my boxes they are likely to be disappointed. Or maybe not. I can just see them now, wearing my pink wool scarf or lava lava, reading a Scottish cookbook and nodding their heads along to experimental Japanese electronica.
Putting all your stuff in boxes makes you evaluate what is important to you to keep and what you don't mind throwing away. I was feeling anxious about how many boxes I had, until Y pointed out that it was a good thing I had so many.
'You have so many good memories in those boxes. You should be proud of them,' he told me.
I remember going through the same experience when I moved away from London. Then a little while after I had arrived bakc in Auckland, my boxes turned up. I couldn't for the life of me remember what was inside them. It's only stuff, in the end.