This is My Box
So there was this box filled with artwork and crafts from the first 7 years of my education. My mom had saved memories and then stored them in the attic with a myriad of other "stuff". The box sat in my dinning room/homeschool room for over a month. Each day I would walk passed it more times than I can count, and each day I told myself I will get to it. I really cannot express the anxiety I felt when I looked at it. It was potentially filled with memories where I didn't want to emotionally travel. I am not suggesting that the box would have letters from bullies, and diary entries that described heartache. However, I was convinced the box would require if not one, two, bottles of wine.
On Mother's Day I found myself curious as to the contents of my box. Maybe there would be sweet drawings from a little girl to her Mommy. So I pulled the box into our living room (bad mistake because some blue paint came off artwork and stained the carpet) and began to remove items one at a time.
To my surprise, I really enjoyed looking back at the artwork I had made. The only things in the box I recognized were a couple reports I did in 6th grade - Francisco Coronado and Louis Leaky. I worked very hard on both, and never forgot all the effort spent at the library getting information (which I was a wiz at because I aced the library card catalog unit) and making copies on the copy machine (which I learned how to use because I was the lunch helper in the school office). I realized that in the midst of the hell experienced by my piers, I did learn valuable life skills I still use today (that is except the card catalog, which lets be honest, we didn't see the Internet coming, did we?).
Here are a few of the items I found in my box:
(start at 2:37 if you want to hear just the box song)
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