By Jennie drama_queen_ja@hotmail.com
Date: 11 March 2000

Days of Cardboard Boxes Gone By

Going through the first of many picture albums, 
I finally found one picture that brings back a fuzzy memeory.

My then three year old brother is playing in a cardboard box.
I, at less than one year old, am standing in the background.
I can almost remember the overwhelming fascination I had in that box.
My little hands and curious eyes carefully inspected that box for hours.
It was my brother's though,
and I knew not to cross my territorial lines. 
I was, however, very dismayed when I awoke from my nap and saw my brother
   playing with his big, yellow bulldozer. 
There was no box in sight.
Everyone went on with their normal lives as though that box help nothing 
   in it.
I knew there were so many adventures held inside of that box.
If only the rest of the house could have known.

That was the first of my many boxes. 
Only one remains in a fonder spot in my heart than the first.
It was a very special box indeed.
It fit my tiny four year old body perfectly. 
My brother left my tiny box alone.
Since he couldn't fit into it,
it wasn't worth fighting for.
My dad brought my special box home from his small optometry office in 
   early Februaury. 
It had the inside layer of one top flap missing and large black numbers
   written on the side,
but it was mine and it was beautiful.
There was just enough room to fit my pillow and blankie in it along with
   me.
I would play in my box for housrs.
It would take me to far away planets,lands of unicorns and fairies, and
   many other desirable destinations.
My mom would come to get me at nap time,
but I never wanted to leave my box.
Instead, I would snuggle down into my pillow and cover up with my blankie.
I only came out of my box to eat and sleep in my bed at nighttime.
I continued playing and napping in my box for weeks.
It was the most fun I have ever had.
Life couldn't get any better.
You can imagine my dissapointment when I couldn't find my box one morning.
As I ran to my dad with tears streaming down my cheeks,
I was my box's fate.
My dad had thrown it our that morning because it was spliting at the 
   seams.
Although I knew it had to be done, no other day ever seemed so tragic to   
   me than that one. 

There were other boxes.
Some were large enough for three or four person adventures.
Some had pretty colors or fancy designs.
Some lasted for months.
None, however, could compare to my special box. 
In it were the adventures and dreams of a life time. 
Though it may not have been the most beautiful box, it was still the best.
Now, as I grow older, I find that looking behind my outside has shown:
   those incredible adventures and dreams also came from me.
I smile as I ponder all these thoughts,
and life goes on...