The Little Toy Box

New Years day I posted a journal about renewal.  For me, the journey is to understand why we sentimentally hold onto things and why I find myself less and less inclined to oblige.  It certainly can be an emotional process, but one my heart is appreciating.  So with this in mind, I've been gathering piles for donation and friends.  And seriously, I'm not gonna lie - it kinda gives me a high. wink.

The other night while Travis was at a show, I put the current offerings into a neat pile and dragged out an item we're giving the kids across the street.  And for what sparked this journal.

My toy box.

This toy box & I have hung out since like forever.  Its completed form of wood and nails was something way more than that.  It suggested the contents inside were untouchable; a sanctuary for devices and ideas where only I held the key.  And for years, we both kept up our end of the bargain.  A mutually exclusive kinship for the give and take.  Dude, it was like this old, rotund man living in a dark corner, peering out through the ajar closet door - calling me through a strong, but calmly spirited voice.
     You have something new to carefully store?  STUFF IT IN MY GUT!
     You want a place to rest your feet?  SIT ON TOP!
     You need to keep a secret?  STORE IN BACK!

Harmony was only meant to exist through my juvenescence.

The box' survival is near synonymous with appropriately, a kiddy book I used to read called the The Little House.  The house lived on the beautiful countryside, its bones well maintained, surrounded by laughter.  But as the occupants grew up and moved away, sadly there was no one left to love it and the house succame to the elements of life.  Whilst the once roaming hills developed into a major city, the home fell into disrepair; grime and the oblivious passersby shunning it day by day.  But there is hope!  A long-lost relative takes notice and swiftly relocates the little house once again to the country.  Gives it a wash, a tuneup, and a hug.  He is alive once more with a new generation of families to help him flourish!

The Little Toy Box

It became that for me.  The only confidant to an only child.  We grew up together, grew wiser over the years.  But eventually the time came for me to place those memories inside and lower the lid one final time.  my key entombed.

Yesterday the little toy box moved across the street to where three, amazing kids can give it a wash, a tuneup, and a hug.  To save their most precious items, sit upon the lid being silly, hide what needs shelter.  A reminder they always have a buddy, peering out through their closet door, whispering in the voice only for them...

He has a new countryside and I am content.