Unpack The Boxes

i have this nasty habit of keeping my boxes packed (literally and figuratively), never fully letting myself sink into a place if i know it’s temporary — but i’m coming to the realization that our entire existence is temporary.

so, 

unpack the boxes / make the orange and cranberry garland in your dinky rental and hang it up over the window / buy the gold velvet curtains / paint the walls white / or better yet, paint wildflowers on them / stop the car and spin in the field you’ll never see again / get the New Girl bangs just to grow them out / even though your friends told you no for the fifteenth time / buy an acre and make a flower farm out of it / write the poetry book / call your grandma on your way to get groceries just to hear her say “darling” one more time / say hello to every dog you pass / every stranger / even that cranky one / scream what you’re feeling / whisper the sweet nothings / move across country because you want to / start over because you have to / and unpack the boxes.

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