Little Boxes, in the garage

I'll come back to those telephonists at a later date, right now I was distracted with remembering many of the things in our garage, that was never used for storing a car, that my fathers gaze had drifted across as he made his way to the back of the house. Apart from a multitude of old telephones and redirection boards, which my brothers and I often enjoyed messing about with, even though we weren’t supposed to, there were other boxes too. Many of them taped closed, always a way of piquing the curiousity of any young boy. A bit like placing a wet paint sign on a bench, everyone wants to touch it to see if it really is wet. Or is it our way of verifying if the information that we are being told is accurate?  Do we doubt everything?

I had no doubt that my punishment was coming. Distracting myself with thoughts of the garage was helpful. And the contents of many of those boxes were never revealed to me. They were taped closed and many had arrived at the house from our last address that same way, never opened but moved at each address. I wonder how many were never opened over the years and even after leaving the house, and the decade later when the family left the house, if any followed them, still unopened? Even today I have a few boxes like that. But, it is my intent to sort through and really discard what I have no real future use for. There are always things though. Things that evoke memories and act as pleasure reminders. Things that add reality to certain parts of your life. Or you think add hard facts to a moment that occurred. Like I said about this blog. This is my history, as I remember it. It may be inaccurate in parts, or even completely wrong, but it is my version.

It may be that I have made certain memories of events work a particular way, as a way to insulate my memory. But that is how all of us develop and reason. Isn’t it? We learn from our mistakes and react to them a particular way. It doesn’t mean I hide from what I have done when I shouldn’t have. But, as you can see from this current story I probably have several ‘boxes’ in my head that are taped shut, with memories packed away which are never actually opened. A glance at the ‘label’ reminds me I need to hang on to that particular ‘box’. I must carry those ‘boxes’ with me no matter where I go or where I end up. But the ‘boxes’, those certain memories, remain with me. 
(continued tomorrow)