Words and Art by Jessica Oats
A Cardboard Box of Memories
It’s early 2021 and everything I own has been packed away. 19 years’ worth of belongings crammed into my tiny car. It’s strange, seeing a lifetime in boxes and overflowing bags. Books I love, clothes I rarely wear. It’s all coming with me.
This new chapter with old things.
The drive is easy: 700 km on one highway. Moving, unpacking, that’s a little harder. Independence: harder still.
But I hang the posters I bought when I was 16 up on the walls and now this new place feels a little more like home.
The orientation events start, then classes. A flurry of new faces, new friends, and pages upon pages of readings.
After a year off since I finished year 12, the endless trek through coursework is the return of a familiar feeling. Head down, teacup full, I know how to navigate this. I’ve written a million essays before now, I can write a million more.
Outside, the world continues to struggle and suffer. This ‘new normal’ is far from ordinary. But that’s fine. I can do this. I’m surrounded by pieces of the world before.
Soon, however, the world outside is overwhelming for more reasons than one. Yes, everything is new and different and I’m far from all I know. But the walls are closing in around me. The literal distance I’m allowed to travel, reduced down to five.
I throw myself into my work, my studies, and my escapism.
I tear through books like the Library of Alexandria is burning down around me. I watch every TV show and movie ever made in case I dare think of the lack of movement outside my window.
It helps.
These familiar pieces of my life, a safe haven from the world outside.
And then, slowly, day by day, the world reopens.
It’s early 2022, I’m moving 20 years’ worth of belongings up the road.
New home, new friends, new classes.
This time it’s easier.
This time I know what I’m doing.
This time, I know how to cope.
It’s a funny thing, starting afresh. Whether you move hundreds of kilometres away or simply change bedrooms, it always feels like beginning again. A chance to reinvent, to find yourself.
But your past always comes with you.
Whether that’s in the boxes you’ve packed, the people you’ve met, or the experiences you’ve lived through.
There was once a time when all I wanted was to run from it.
Now I can look back and embrace it.
The past that shaped me. The past that saved me.
Starting anew is scary, but it’s also exhilarating, and now I know I can step into any new chapter because the path I’ve walked to get here, the past I’ve lived, is there to guide me.
It’s there to catch me if I fall.
And for that, I’ll always be grateful to my cardboard box full of memories.
