Eleven Boxes

I have a great friend named Bea. We met when I noticed she got off at my same bus stop and walked into my neighborhood when I was ferrying to Seattle in 2006. She sat toward the end of the boat where I sat on the way home, and one day we began chatting after our work day. Our conversations on the 5:30 PM ferry became very important to me, and Bea is simply one of my favorite people. I walk with her to her bus stop most work mornings at 5:30, because otherwise I know I would never get a chance to visit.

Bea is from Honduras, born to a German father and Honduran mother. She is around 66, and works full time as a legal secretary in a downtown Seattle office. She commutes 5 days a week (which is very demanding), is healthy and full of energy, is positive and interesting, and is a great role model. She was widowed about 12 years ago, and lives with her daughter and son-in-law and 2 grandchildren.

We have had many conversations about life and people, shared recipes and favorite reads, and observed many fascinating people who would ride the ferry. One of my favorite, most memorable talks we had, though, was when we discussed owning things and moving. You see, after her husband passed away while they were living in New Orleans (pre-Katrina, of course), she needed to decide where she was going to spend the next few years. Bea decided (upon invitation, I'm sure) to spend some time living with her only 2 grandchildren. She thought out her move, and determined to pack very light. She got rid of all her furniture, and even gave her car to a nephew. Everything she felt inspired to keep was packed up in boxes and sent to her daughter's home. She then walked on the plane with her allotted 2 suitcases of clothes and 2 carry on bags. And, all in all, she shipped only 11 boxes of possessions here to Washington.

This has amazed me since I have heard about it. Eleven boxes! "What could have been in those boxes," I wondered to myself. I even asked her the next day on the ferry, and she told me blankets and towels and stuff. "What about photos?" She told me, "I have one of my husband, and I gave all the rest to my 2 daughters. Why do I need photos when I have the real things?" In this world of scrapbooking it is indeed astounding to imagine, much less encounter, someone who doesn't "do" photos!

I have thought many times about those 11 boxes. When my husband and I go on our mission(s), could we fit our things in 11 boxes each? Could I "give away all that [I] have"? What exactly would I put in 11 boxes and ship to the rest of my life?

How about you? What would be in 11 boxes of your most precious possessions?