A Bedtime Garden

Good things grow. 

“That should be the last of it”. The delivery man says as he hops off the truck bed, handing Marquis a clipboard. Marquis signs off on the delivery and hands back the clipboard. “Careful with that”, he says as he gently receives the last taped-up heavy box. He walks toward the apartment alley staircase and begins to climb up. He takes each step carefully, making sure not to lose his feet in the gaps between the floating concrete steps. Hugging the cardboard box, a red and white sticker that reads “fragile” presses against his chest. He reaches the door of unit 29 and manages to balance the box on an elevated knee while he pokes one-handedly at the lock with his key. He opens the door to enter his new studio apartment, and is greeted by the slender shape of fluffy fur that purrs at his feet. He nearly crushes his cat, Milly, as he pogo-sticks in with the large box. He barely gets his two feet on the ground before his attention shifts ahead to catch the smoldering embers of the sunset through the large, lonely window that centers the back wall of his apartment. The full frame of the window hides behind the growing mound of boxes that pile like weeds near the door of his little space. He tiptoes around to plant his last box atop the mound.

Marquis takes in the space, surveying the rest of his room. He doesn’t have to look long because there is little to see. There is a small kitchenette to the left of the entrance and a door to the bathroom along the wall further in. With the heap of boxes at the entry to his shoebox apartment, the only thing in order is his bed.

He kicks off his shoes and drones instinctively toward the comfort of his warm linenned refuge at the corner of the window. Milly follows at his feet. Alone with his cat, Marquis sprawls across his bed below the mound. He looks up at the last box atop the others. A seed among the things he carried. 

His apartment is a fresh start. But his new little garden is littered with weed-like possessions that rob him of room to grow. He wonders when he even acquired all the things that pile up before him, packed away. In his old place, he didn’t seem to notice how much he had come to have or when it had all gotten there. As the hours escape him, he quietly questions himself. “Why so much”?

Morning comes, and Marquis opens his eyes and is greeted by fluffy sunlight. He reaches toward his face to wipe the dew from his eyes, and his hand finds Milly perched on his chest in front of his face. He moves her out of the way and rises to start his day. No breakfast can be had in his empty kitchen. 

He begins his search, weeding through the boxes, unpacking his old life. He exhausts himself, opening one box after the other. He removes pots and pans, places coats and shoes around his feet. He unpacks a skateboard and pictures that join the other things on the floor that now encircle him. Marquis sinks to the ground in frustration after his long search, remiss of what he was looking for to begin with. From the floor, he looks up at the last taped-up box atop the others. He rises to pluck it and carefully sets it down by his bed. He peels it open and peers inside, and is fed by a thin smile that spreads sweetly across his face. 

“All I need”.