An old box.. like an old boxer

I spent the latter part of my afternoon in San Francisco today. I helped take down our tradeshow booth at Fort Mason at the Fabric Show. I kept staring at these old worn out, lopsided boxes we were loading valuable one-of-a-kind quilts and various curtains and fabrics and other elements into.

These boxes look as though they have traveled the world. And they probably have. Deb just kept taping it together with the packing tape to hold it all in. We'd tape a sheet of paper over an old address label and hand print our office address on it. Scratch out an old address (or two or three) with a permanent marker to make it easier for the UPS man to deliver it.

These tired, worn out boxes. Still carrying on. Not yet ready to retire. They seemed eager and willing to help. Almost proud.

I imagine them right now sitting in some dark UPS truck along interstate 80 heading for New York exchanging war stories.

"You shudda seen me back in my prime when I hauled 80 pounds of heavy hand held weights from Nashville to Biloxi in the heat of summer!"

"Oh yeahhh? Well, I once carried expensive china from Boston to Santa Barbara ... usin' muscles I didn't know I had ... to keep me from shaking so I wouldn't break the fragile glass!"

I haven't written anything in a long time. And then I ramble about worn-out boxes.

And. I'm worn out, too. So off to bed I go.