Gift Box
In contrast to the last post, this week I'm leaning towards a sigh of great relief. As you know my liver wavered much towards lily. I finally met with my family doctor to go over the CT results and the lesions do not appear to be cancerous. I have an appointment with a specialist next month to map everything out for future reference, but above all, the news is all positive.
On the flip side, we have medical bills rolling in. Even with insurance, deductibles must be met. Forget our budget now, open wallet and empty everything we saved into the jar and hush up!
With all of that said, I've asked for a very large appliance box instead of a store bought gift for Christmas this year. Call me crazy but it would be exciting to build an escape hatch. I'll post a sign above the cutout door: "no electronics, no cell phones, beeps, blips or distractions." I say, turn off the noise, forget your troubles...just breathe and dare to imagine a better reality. An emotional, physical and spiritual recharge port...no distractions, just plan, plot and begin to contemplate the next leg forward. Story time!
Clip-clop, clip-clop...horses...am I hearing a distinct patter from the Oregon Trail...have I transported back to the mid 1800's? Spin the wheel of time, where shall we land? A new storyline, a continuation from a past story...or should I take the winter off and read until my eyes can no longer focus?
If I tire of pretending, I can slap a few postage stamps on the side, scribble an address and mail myself to somewhere warm! With the mercury dipping towards unbearable, Florida sounds great about now. I'll pack a flashlight and many books for the journey, however my vision is not so keen any longer.
When my daughter was a wee bit of a thing, I devoured novels. One after the other, reading 3 to 5 books per week. Now, I'm lucky to manage one book per year. My eyes fail to work like they used to so forget the tiny font. Just the same as I question who changed my sewing needles to a smaller version from what I remember, I ask who shrunk the print in most of the library books. The computer is easier for me, I can Ctrl + twenty times until everything morphs LARGE. Hello, words...so glad to read you!
When my daughter was 5, I acquired a box, slanted the folds to make a roof, painted it up and presto, instant play cottage. With our dog Chipper following close behind, I'd watch her drag that makeshift house throughout our back yard. She carried her books to the yard and told the pup stories. One evening she announced how she was going to camp there overnight. When her dad walked into the back yard through the dimness of 10 foot candles, the dog did not recognize him and began to bark feverishly. The next sound was one that belongs in the record books. I have no doubt that from end to end, over expressway noise, subway clatter and the wake splashing along Lake Michigan, my daughter's scream was audible. I've never heard a child shout in such a visceral manner before. Even after she realized that the stranger was just her dad checking on her, somehow spending the night in the back yard did not seem like such a good idea.
Daughter's cottage eventually wore out and ended up at a recycling center. The truth is, as most kids will attest, an empty box often carries more possibilities than the toys that are held within. A vacant box may transform into a boat, a spaceship, a house, a car, a submarine, a time traveling device, a quick change room for a superhero, foldable-collapsible-storable, until the next inspiration takes shape. The cardboard can be carved, bent, cut, reworked, re-pitched, re-sized, painted, illuminated, carpeted, drawn on...with draperies, tapestries, pillows and style.
....but most of all, with a deep breath and great anticipation, I dare imagine stepping inside if only to become a kid once again. 2016 will fall away as the Twilight Zone pendulum swings me into whatever reality I'm destined to explore.
I long for a world free from politics, hurtful banter, red, blue and an orange shoe hurled between opposing political parties, abandon all hatred and prejudice, without crime and sinister intent. Yes, all I want for Christmas is an appliance box...the square from a stove would suit my creative lifestyle just fine.
Are you with me?
Good. I'll see you on the other side of the cubby. Until next week, stay warm.
~Trixie Archer
On the flip side, we have medical bills rolling in. Even with insurance, deductibles must be met. Forget our budget now, open wallet and empty everything we saved into the jar and hush up!
With all of that said, I've asked for a very large appliance box instead of a store bought gift for Christmas this year. Call me crazy but it would be exciting to build an escape hatch. I'll post a sign above the cutout door: "no electronics, no cell phones, beeps, blips or distractions." I say, turn off the noise, forget your troubles...just breathe and dare to imagine a better reality. An emotional, physical and spiritual recharge port...no distractions, just plan, plot and begin to contemplate the next leg forward. Story time!
Clip-clop, clip-clop...horses...am I hearing a distinct patter from the Oregon Trail...have I transported back to the mid 1800's? Spin the wheel of time, where shall we land? A new storyline, a continuation from a past story...or should I take the winter off and read until my eyes can no longer focus?
If I tire of pretending, I can slap a few postage stamps on the side, scribble an address and mail myself to somewhere warm! With the mercury dipping towards unbearable, Florida sounds great about now. I'll pack a flashlight and many books for the journey, however my vision is not so keen any longer.
When my daughter was a wee bit of a thing, I devoured novels. One after the other, reading 3 to 5 books per week. Now, I'm lucky to manage one book per year. My eyes fail to work like they used to so forget the tiny font. Just the same as I question who changed my sewing needles to a smaller version from what I remember, I ask who shrunk the print in most of the library books. The computer is easier for me, I can Ctrl + twenty times until everything morphs LARGE. Hello, words...so glad to read you!
When my daughter was 5, I acquired a box, slanted the folds to make a roof, painted it up and presto, instant play cottage. With our dog Chipper following close behind, I'd watch her drag that makeshift house throughout our back yard. She carried her books to the yard and told the pup stories. One evening she announced how she was going to camp there overnight. When her dad walked into the back yard through the dimness of 10 foot candles, the dog did not recognize him and began to bark feverishly. The next sound was one that belongs in the record books. I have no doubt that from end to end, over expressway noise, subway clatter and the wake splashing along Lake Michigan, my daughter's scream was audible. I've never heard a child shout in such a visceral manner before. Even after she realized that the stranger was just her dad checking on her, somehow spending the night in the back yard did not seem like such a good idea.
Daughter's cottage eventually wore out and ended up at a recycling center. The truth is, as most kids will attest, an empty box often carries more possibilities than the toys that are held within. A vacant box may transform into a boat, a spaceship, a house, a car, a submarine, a time traveling device, a quick change room for a superhero, foldable-collapsible-storable, until the next inspiration takes shape. The cardboard can be carved, bent, cut, reworked, re-pitched, re-sized, painted, illuminated, carpeted, drawn on...with draperies, tapestries, pillows and style.
....but most of all, with a deep breath and great anticipation, I dare imagine stepping inside if only to become a kid once again. 2016 will fall away as the Twilight Zone pendulum swings me into whatever reality I'm destined to explore.
I long for a world free from politics, hurtful banter, red, blue and an orange shoe hurled between opposing political parties, abandon all hatred and prejudice, without crime and sinister intent. Yes, all I want for Christmas is an appliance box...the square from a stove would suit my creative lifestyle just fine.
Are you with me?
Good. I'll see you on the other side of the cubby. Until next week, stay warm.
~Trixie Archer
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