Almost four-weeks into Marriage. I'm loving it, but also moving out and learning to live with someone new brings about a lot of adjustment. You are constantly shifting your weight as you attempt to balance on this new board which has different weights and sensitivities. I'm having to learn to say, "ours" instead of "his" and "Mom & Dad" instead of "Mr. & Mrs."
The symbol of this change: boxes. In these boxes is everything imaginable from childhood trinkets to adulthood necessities. The "razor" for my Shaving Ken doll, really just a plastic stick with a foam pad on the end. The child size T-shirt that says, "I'm in the middle." An unopened curling iron because I can't take the one at my parent's home with me. A purple wedding planning book with bent pages and a dented cover from being dropped on the ground from desk-level.
The boxes form an impenetrable wall before our sliding glass door, stacked three or four high, depending on their size. They are labeled with department store logos, leftovers from wedding registry gifts. They are haphazardly sealed with scant pieces of packing tape. There are light cob webs growing between a few as they have not been touched in a few weeks. Everything needed is already unpacked.
Sitting proudly on the bookshelf are dozens of photos of smiling sisters and proud parents. Those were out of the boxes first.