Obsession and Compulsion

Nothing's like a Christmas Dinner. Martha looked around the room, feeling happy and satisfied. The room filled with warm yellowy light, laughter filled the air, beside her, her daughter touched Martha's arm gently, they're laughing over some jokes that her son threw. On one edge of the table, sat her loved one, Martin, her husband for 30 years now. If there's one occasion that Martha always looked forward to, it's Christmas. The atmosphere, the food, the decoration, the celebration, everything always pleases Martha. And oh, the presents. It's always something that Martha looked forward to the most.

Martha looked at another table next to the dinner table. There, stacks of gifts lay, awaited to be passed on to the new owners.

"Okay, it's time for presents!!!" Shouted her daughter, raised from her chair to the next table, handing over the presents to each person.

"Thank you, darling." Martha took hers with delight. She got white box with beautiful pink floral pattern the size of a shoebox from Maya, her daughter, a perfect rectangular shape. From Mike, her son, a vintage wooden cigarette box with sliding lid. A classic beauty. And from Martin, a big rounded carton container, decorated with cute household equipment patterns. Martha giggled, where did Martin get this kind of pattern? It's just cute.

"Do you like the slippers, Mom? It's so comfy, I got one at home, so I thought I'd bought one for you, too." Ask Maya.
"And next year's pocket calendar for you, Mom. I don't want you to forget dates too often. Especially important dates like my wedding date." Commented Mike.
"Please make me more of your delicious treats with that new multi-purpose mixer, honey." Said Martin.

Yeah, every present was great, but they knew it wasn't those things that delighted her more. It's the boxes. Oh, look at those beautiful boxes. Covered with lovely patterns, each sizes different from another, some even had particular smell on it. Everyone knew that Martha's more in love with the boxes than with the presents. Sometimes, when they had no idea on what to give to her, they'd just go and buy beautiful boxes. They knew it would pleases Martha, and she would soon find some objects to filled them with.

Martha's love for boxes was not meaningless. She also loved keeping and stacking. Every object is a piece of history for Martha, every object is worthy. She found it hard to throw something as valuable as memories. She still kept the dress she wore for her first dance party, where she met Martin, her favourite quilt that her mom sewed when she first moved out of the house, the clothes of her babies, Maya's tutu, Mike's batman costume, their report cards, even their test papers. Martha loves every single one of them, she never threw away every single one of them.

That's why she loved boxes. Because boxes keep them safe, undamaged, and neat. There were times when her kids, or even Martin, said she was a hoarder. That's when their mood were bad or they tripped over some boxes or could not find the things they're looking for. But she's not. 'I'm definitely not,' said Martha to herself. She's so different from her late father, who was unable to throw everything away, and just laid them everywhere, unorganized, to the point that one day, they couldn't open the front door, so they have to go in and out from the garage door and had to walk sideways just to go through doors.

Martha is very well organized. Besides, she's so expert in organizing things that her house was very neat-looking. She classified things, put it into different boxes, noted which boxes contain what things.

She stacked every boxes with care, one on the top of another. She knew what size and volume is perfect on another, so they wouldn't fall or struck people on the head. She's so busy stacking until one day she realized how much she loved it. It's like an art of its own. You need skill, calculation, and sense to make a perfect stack. A perfect stack could go meters high, high above your own head, and stood firmly without any nails or glue. Some of Martha's masterpieces could even touched the ceilings. Stacks that sometimes Martha would stood in front of and admired. She wondered, why is there no courses for boxes stacking.

Ting-ting-ting. Martin clang his glass, standing from his seat.

"I'm happy this year is ended beautifully. As you all know, I had fully retired from my job and I swore to myself that this will be the time to pursue something very important in my life. Reviving the romance with my old flame."

Martha struck by the last words of Martin's speech. She was dumbfounded. Suddenly, her mind rolled back to years and years before, when they were young, even younger. Martha knew exactly Martin's old flame. Everyone they knew, knew it. They knew how much in love Martin was, and so aghast when Martin decided to leave it for the sake of his family. Actually, Martha was never against it, she's happy whenever Martin's happy. It was his decision to do it.

"I've gathered the old gang and surprisingly, they all agree," Martin continues, "that we've decided to start the practice on January 8th, 7 p.m."

"Great, dad!" said Maya, encouragingly.

Everyone's clapping their hands. Martha's getting more and more nervous.

"But, but, don't you all need a place to rehearse, honey?" She asked.

"Oh, don't worry. Don't you remember Stanley owns a Jazz bar? Perfect, isn't it? We could practice twice a week, he even promised a performance for us, and who knows, a record deal?" Martin's voice filled with enthusiasm, as he's dancing back and forth. "This is the time, honey. This is the time."

"NO!!!" Exclaim Martha, her hand slammed the table.

Everyone was freezed. In the back of Martha's mind, rolling a scene from 5 years ago. She accidentally found Martin's old flame, Nina, in the basement. A shiny saxophone he owns eversince he was a teenager. His father bought it for him for his first performance. Martin treasured it like nothing else in the world. He never touched another saxophone, let alone blew one. For him, it'd be like cheating. He fell in love with jazz, but he was in love with Nina. They're inseparable. It was even there when they met each other. Martin was playing with his band on the night Martha attended her first dance party. He was so handsome and talented, recalled Martha. It was such a sacrifice, when Martin decided to stop pursuing his music career and entered a big oil company for the sake of providing better for his family.

But it wasn't Nina or the memory that amazed Martha. It's the box. A heavy plywood and metal box, reinforced with thick foam padding, covered by dark brown Nappa leather, just the right size to fit the occupant tightly. Like every old things, it was beautifully made and destined to live as long as it could.

Soon Martha found its best function as one of the best foundation of one of her masterpieces.

Inside, Martha's heart and head is boiling. Back when she was a kid, there's nothing she hated more than other kid came and destroyed her wooden blocks tower.

"I'll make sure you will never ever do that, Martin." She stated, calmly, but determined.