Today's post will be a little different! (There will be no fortune! Sorry guys!) But a rather wordy post that just kind of came out! Enjoy?
I've decided to let you all in on a little secret.
I have a box. He (for he is a boy box) is no where near as famous as Pandora's Box nor is he a box worthy enough to hold magical beans that would grow to the heavens nor for a Jack to reside in. He's just a box. He is black, slightly fuzzy (feels like a fake suede), and has a small hole in the top to hold pictures commemorating events. A thoughtful "thank you" note from an old friend makes its home there for now. Printed on the flimsy plastic covering that keeps the hole in check is "Evening Under the Stars - LOHS 2008 Prom." Thankfully, the text is in a somewhat small print and I can't really read it from far away. But it's on my box.
I've named him "The Paper Box." Okay, it's not really a name - more of a title, actually. Not because he's made of paper - he's sturdier than that - but because that's what I mostly store in him. If you open my fake suede box you'll be greeted by a few plastic figurines (which you can disregard quickly), a couple of name tags from various events and then you'll hit the gold mine. For it is in this very box that I keep my precious fortune cookie fortunes. There's still not many of them. The small scraps of paper probably take up about an eighth of the content.
"So what's the rest?" you ask. Well, various items. I have a plane ticket from when I traveled to Puerto Rico in the eighth grade. A post card of a dingo my dad picked up when he went to the land down under for a while. A note written to me on half of an index card by a friend when I was sick one day. A check for twenty-five dollars that I will now cash because I am in need of money. A few clothing tags that looked clever and were supposed to be made into bookmarks before I broke my laminator. And movie tickets. A pile of them. I may even have more movie tickets than I do fortune cookie fortunes! I have them from way back in the day, one of the earliest being almost three years ago. It's Happy Feet.
I love my Paper Box, but it's sad sometimes. I'll go months on end living my life, tossing the occasional fortune or movie ticket in him before forgetting about him again. But then I'll hit days where I'm feeling nostalgic or lonely or sad or some other feeling besides my normal "ON" or "SLEEP MODE." So, I'll crack him open and go through the items. I'll read the sick note,
"I love you Flambly and I miss you!"
Or the thank you note,
"Dear Flambly,
I genuinely love you and refuse to say bye so all I can say is thanks for the countless hours of hyperness fuel that you have supplied me with. Now go get your phone and text me because you know you want to."
Or the fortunes and movie tickets,
"Ha ha ha, I remember when we went to see Wall-E! The movie cut while my mother was singing to Hello Dolly and the entire theater heard her until they restarted the movie!"
And I'll stay quiet reflecting about how awesome my life has been just from tiny scraps of paper that provide so much fondness and support. My little box always lifts my spirits and somehow always knows what to show me to make me feel tons better. For example, I've been concerned about my financial situation for a little while now, but I open up my box and it shows me an old check! And I'm reminded that someone is keeping an eye out for me, making sure that everything will go smoothly.
I'm hoping to eventually turn my box into a large art project, once he's full enough. And I can start a new box, collecting items and doo-dads to my heart's content. Or maybe he'll just stay a box full of mismatched, old, wrinkled paper that means nothing to no one but me, slowly growing in size to remind me that I, too, am growing with each activity, each thought, each action I take and that every thing I do, is important and will be of epic proportions one day. Even if today, all can be shown for it is a scrap of paper in a box.
