I acquired the box at the local co-op, which always has free boxes for groceries. Boxes are better – I can fit all my groceries in one instead of several bags. The bags rip and I have to throw them away. I keep the boxes. They’re useful.
It said Cosmic Crisp on it. I guess it had once held the apples that go by that name. How strange that apples have branding.
I looked at the box on my living room floor, on its side. It wasn’t supposed to be there. But with several young children, I’ve given up on the idea that things have specific places.
It was white and red, with a pleasant looking logo. It was dented. I wondered just how many groceries I’d brought home in that very box, not just from the co-op but from other stores too. A lot.
And that night, my eldest son bashed monster truck toys into it over and over and then asked why the box was so damaged.
I bet that box had never planned on being used as much as it had. That it had never planned to play such a significant role during its life. I wondered if the box appreciated it as I tore it apart and stuffed it into the recycle bin.
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