My mom is moving out of her office, which also happened to be a place we lived when I was a teenager. So, my husband and I went to go through some of the things that had been left behind over the years, and help my mom clean up a bit. When I arrived I was in for quite a surprise...for there they were: boxes, with boyfriends in them.
I don't know how far away I had tucked the memory of making these boxes into the folds of my mind, but I tell you, it was DEEP. I literally had no recollection of making these very carefully (and sexually) crafted boxes to keep my then-boyfriend memorabilia in. Nonetheless, I had.
These boxes were really something to see; adorned in glitter and sexual words and pictures. In a way, they made me feel classic. After all, my high school generation was the last to live without Facebook, and I guess when you don't have all that online stimulation jamming the wires of your brain you have to occupy your time somehow.
Opening these gems, I found a treasure trove of notes, playbills, pictures, and other things I am not willing to admit to, that were the pieces of my former self. It was sort of neat seeing all the makings of the woman I was to become....all of those love notes were a reminder of the idealist I had been back then, and they were each little bricks in the road to the wife I have become.
There was only one thing left to do with these boxes: have a ceremonial burning of them. I mean, I couldn't have these suckers hanging around my house with my child someday. No, no. They had to go. So, my mom, my husband and I went through them, had a selected reading, and then gave them a funeral.
Really, this was the best time ever to have a boyfriend box burning. I have a husband, a child, and I turned 30 this year. It's been a time of closure for me. Sometimes closing doors can be difficult, or sometimes it can fun and ceremonial, like burning an old boyfriend box. Either way, it's an exercise in letting go...a sort of spiritual offering, at least for me.
During the boyfriend box burning, I let go of the girl I was once and incorporated her into the woman I am today. That woman is ever-changing, as women tend to be. She still feels girl-like at times, but what I realized when I delved into the boxes of my past, is that I am far from being a child. It happened without me really noticing. It was a slow burn, if you will. And while I am far from fully baked, I like to think the dough is pretty well set at this point.