Four Boxes: Work

There were two boxes left. I was surrounded by layers of paper, glitter crumpled candy canes and velvet red. The mess which is left you when endeavour to delve a little deeper. ‘Work’ and ‘Childhood’ remained. The snowflaked blue box is cold to touch and the ink on the label is smudged. This box frightens me because I have no idea what is inside. Not all of the folds are sellotaped properly, the paper is creased and the bow is tied messily. ‘Work’ comes undone easily. Inside, buried in tissue paper is the following:

crumpled sweet wrappers; all different colours catching the light

blank postcards

a photograph of a door; ajar.

a list of things i wanted to be, in a five year old’s handwriting

a pen.

I wish I knew what to do with everything in front of me. With the time, with the wide expanse of the world and the magic at my fingertips. I wish I had found courage in this box, or confidence. I found what I already know, so I suppose this is a reminder I need to learn how to use what I have first. I need to be myself and run through the doors I can open. Instead of trying to be something, or someone else and knocking on closed ones.


The first box.

The second box.

Part Four will be published tomorrow.

© Kristiana Reed 2018

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