"I give you this wax paper as a sign of my undying love."

My husband, Mark and I have been married for nearly six years. Our wedding anniversary is June 5th--just a few short weeks away. I can remember the day well, and the first few months of marriage: it all was so new and fun, similar to the experience of becoming a parent.

Our first year of marriage, we lived in a small, one bedroom apartment (the very one we live in now). We moved in a right after we returned from our honeymoon. I unpacked boxes, gifts from our wedding and went to the grocery store for the first time as a "married woman" to stock our kitchen. I bought all the staples that I can remember seeing in my mother's kitchen: flour, sugar, baking soda, dusty cans of tuna and chickpeas, ziplock bags, saran wrap and wax paper--all those pantry items that you just "have on hand."

It wasn't long before we used up all those items and I bought more--except for the wax paper. Perhaps it is because I don't bake much or because my husband likes to keep our microwave in a perpetual state of "splatter!", or the fact that Sophia and I have yet to make those melted-crayon-stained-glass thingys that wax paper is so useful for. Whatever the reason, I rarely use wax paper. Which is why, after a year, when we packed up all our stuff and moved across the country to Arizona, the wax paper came with us.

Each time we relocated within the greater Phoenix area, the wax paper (the very same that I bought as a newlywed) did too. And when we decided to move back to New Hampshire, the wax paper once again, made the trip across the country.

Two weeks ago, I got out the wax paper to cover my plate before putting it in the microwave (I, unlike my husband, do not like "splatter!"). I pulled a sheet from the carton and before I could fold it across the perforation to tear it off, it freed itself: it was the last piece. The cardboard tube was empty.

The empty box sat on our kitchen table for a week--I couldn't bring myself to throw it away. When it got in the way, I moved it to the desk in the living room. I took a picture of it and put it back on the desk. And then this morning, I moved it to the trash. My husband protested: "You can't throw that away! Its a sign of our undying love!" I responded: "Well dear, I can't exactly wear it around my finger and it certainly won't fit in a scrapbook. Besides, I've already saved every card anyone has given Sophia, plus all the pictures and video we've taken. We just can't save everything." He nodded in agreement. So, we said good bye to the empty wax paper box as it went out with the rest of our garbage this morning--and now that I've written this post, it has been properly eulogized.