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Creative Nonfiction on Flashbacks
Seven Boxes and a Funeral
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“Baby”
In Finland new babies get a box filled with things they’ll need: nappies, wet wipes, etc. At the bottom of the box is a thin mattress — the box is the baby’s first crib. I was a last baby, a girl, with a hand-me-down cot and my brothers’ old clothes, but I never slept in a cardboard box — I mean what would the neighbours think?
“Daughter”
Little girls come in pink boxes labelled “fragile” and “handle with care”. They will be prone to emotions and mood swings, and should not be taken too seriously. If they grow right they will make babies (but not out of wedlock). Whatever they achieve in life, when you hold your grandchild for the first time this will be the proudest of your daughter you will ever be.
“Young lady”
In her trunk she packed mini-skirts and spangles and high-heeled shoes, the better to totter into adulthood. She thought she had packed everything she needed, including good advice. But it turned out she hadn’t brought enough books, or a good enough rape alarm.
