Finally Unpacking

Moving is a beautiful and awful experience. Of course, it is easier to see the beauty of it when it is all over. At least, I hope that’s when the beauty of it becomes evident, and I’m optimistic that will be something I experience in the near future, as soon as I finally finish unpacking.

It was last weekend, while I was belatedly unpacking the hall closet stuff, I made a very happy discovery indeed. Kootie was in the box, looking a little disheveled, but resting comfortably in a cozy nest of wadded up table linens and newsprint-wrapped candlesticks.

“I’ve missed you so much!” I exclaimed in delight. “Have you been in here all along?”

Kootie stretched her arms and favored me with her most beautiful smile. “Here I am,” she croaked, then gave a cute little hacking cough to clear her throat. It had been a little more than a year since I had taped this box securely shut, and if Kootie had been in there all along, well, just imagine. I offered her a drink of water, and she accepted eagerly, struggling stiffly to her foot to receive it.

“I’ll bet my new friend would like some water too,” Kootie said to me, and with an awkward flourish pulled aside some loose newsprint to reveal our Christmas nutcracker. Erect and stoic he stood, wedged in the corner of the box, right where I had put it last summer. It was fashioned as a toy soldier in a red coat with hand-painted shiny black boots and breeches. He stared through widely open handpainted eyes, and his enormous white teeth were clenched in a tight grimace that surely would have intimidated any nut; I was no exception. Kootie glanced at me expectantly.

“Water?” I asked the nutcracker uncertainly, feeling a heavy sense of obligation not to question this important new relationship in Kootie’s life. The nutcracker maintained his fine military pose and said nothing.

“So, Kootie,” I said, hoping in vain to change the subject, “Uh, how are you doing, anyway?”

“To tell you the truth, I was starting to get bored,” Kootie admitted to me. “I had just introduced myself to, uh,” and she pointed conspiratorially at the nutcracker, “when you closed the box. It was all dark, and I think he was too shy to say much, so I tried some friendly small talk. After a while, I realized that he must be on a speech-fast, and I wasn’t being very helpful by tempting him to talk. For the whole night I kept quiet, and that made the night seem extra long, but now you’ve opened the box, and it’s day, and I’m happy.”

“I’m so glad,” I said.

“So, is Koobie awake?” Kootie glanced around with bright inquisitive eyes. In an instant I wished that there was more to see than just a clutter of empty boxes and partly-arranged household goods. The truth is that I hadn’t seen Koobert since the move, and I did still have a couple of boxes left to open. We opened the last of the boxes together, but Koobert was not to be found anywhere.

“Maybe you should try your special Koobie call,” I offered. Koobert is, after all, fond of hiding and leaping out at people as part of an elaborate game I don’t really understand, but he gets points and mail-order prizes, but I digress. The Koobie-call is a password to his deepest sensibilities, and he forgets all about hiding to race up and join the fun. I wonder if he even realizes…

“Ahem,” Kootie cleared her throat, then said in a loud voice, “Chipotle’s burrito.”

We waited together expectantly. It would just be a minute, absolutely.

Kootie glanced at me with unusual concern.

“Where could he be?” Kootie wondered aloud. “Yesterday he was sorting through a pile of old books and stuff. You don’t suppose he got klonked on the head or something, do you?” She called out again, “Chipotle! Burrito!!”

Nothing. A brief cloud of worry passed across her brow, but didn’t linger.

I struggled to recall a pile of old books from the packing frenzy last year. It had to have been toward the end, and you know how it goes. I had initially been pretty enthusiastic about carefully sorting and packing most everything, but toward the end, you just get tired of messing with old stuff you never really ever use. Some awkward stuff just gets thrown in boxes with some sort of vague idea of handling it carefully, and making the decision when we get there. More and more toward the end though…

“Thrown away?” Kootie asked incredulously. “You threw him away by accident?”

I nodded helplessly and with deep regret. But then, Kootie brightened and giggled.

“I bet he got to ride in a garbage truck then! We love adventures on big trucks! I’ll find him and we’ll have some real fun.” Kootie paused and glanced around. “Which way to the dump, then?” she asked.

“Oklahoma,” I replied, and pointed vaguely west. “That way.”

Kootie politely waved good-bye to the stoic nutcracker, gave me a quick hug, and hopped happily out of the door. I lingered for a moment after she disappeared around the curve in the street, and heard the receding echo. “Chipotle!”

Next time, the “Revenge of the Burrito!”