Lunchbox

I judge people who carry lunchboxes.

Big boxy lunchboxes. Plastic lunchboxes. Lunchboxes with super hero figures or princess print. Fabric lunchboxes with their own cooler-lined inside.

Let me clarify, I judge people who carry lunchboxes on BYU campus.

I always assume that they are married. If you are carrying a lucnhbox that is somehow associated in my mind with marriage. There is probably behind that lunchbox, a nice wife who so thoughtful packed a loaded ham sandwich, chips, some sort of vegetable, two granola bars, a pudding cup, a bottle of water, and a napkin. Or perhaps a husband, knowing his wife was going to have a busy schedule packed a simple lunch to carry her through the day. Maybe he even included a little note. Maybe it said, "I love you!" or "You're the best" or something cheesy like that that husbands say to their wives via lunchbox notes.

I see them all over campus. As I'm walking to the JFSB, the JKB. I see them in the library. I see them sitting silently next to students seated on floors, their heads down in a textbook. I see them being peeked into for a snack. I see them strapped across chests, hanging from hands, tied to backpacks. I once even saw one being handed to a tall brown-haired boy from a thin brunette girl. He must have forgotten it.

I bet that if stopped all the people weighed down with a lunchbox and asked if they were married their would be a resounding yes.

I do not carry a lunchbox. My PB&J sits in my backpack next to my pencil pouch, feeling pressure form my textbooks.